When they were come to the end of the work I could see that both were heavy at heart for the parting that was to come; and I knew of myself that Maddalena had slept little, and I knew, too, that this was not because _sua Eccellenza_ the Duke snored heavily all night, for had that been so, poor Maddalena would have been ill off for sleep at the best of times. No!--she had lain awake thinking of Giacinto; and he of her, it may be. But what do I know? I could see he was not happy: could you expect it? And his hand shook, and he did no good to me. And he would not touch my face and hands with the colour, and I well knew why. Therefore, when he had tried for a little and could not work to any purpose, my lady _la Duchessa_ says, as one who takes courage--for neither had yet spoken of how they must part--"Come, my Giacinto, let us be of better cheer, and not be so downcast. For who knows but the good God may let us meet again one happy day when His will is? Let us be grateful for the little hour of our felicity, and make no complaint now that it was not longer. But you cannot work, my Giacinto, and are doing no good to the beautiful picture. Leave it and come and sit here by me, and we will talk of the old days, the dear old time. And as for the old Marta, she is sound asleep and snoring; only not so loud as my old pig of a husband all last night!" Indeed, it was true of old Marta, but for my own part I think she was only pretending to be asleep, for my Maddalena had talked to her of how this would be the last time, and softened her, and given her ten Venetian ducats and a cap of lace. But, for the snoring of the old Duke, it had done some service; for the little joke about it had made Maddalena speak more cheerfully, and Giacinto could find a laugh for it, though he had little heart to laugh out roundly at anything. La Maddalena went near to make him, though! For she talked of how thirteen little puppies all came at once of three mothers, and she christened them all after the Blessed Apostles and Judas Iscariot, and every one was drowned or given away except Judas Iscariot; and how she would hold up Judas for Giacinto to kiss, saying he was a safe Judas this time, as how could he be else with that little fat stomach, and not a month old. So I was finished, and Giacinto would have put his signature in one corner had he not thought it best to wait until _sua Eccellenza_ the Duke had seen it, for who could say he would not have it altered? Messer Angelo Allori had finished a portrait of _la Principessa_ Gonzaga, and just as he was thinking to sign it, what does her ladyship do but say she would rather have been painted in her _camorra di seta verde_; and thereat he had to paint out the old dress and paint in the new, for none might say nay to _la Principessa_. So that is how it comes that this picture--that I am--is unsigned; and that the Art Critics, for once, are not unanimous about who was the author.