Here a meagre wood fire smouldered, making much smoke in a badly constructed chimney. The floor was formed of a mosaic of precious marbles, and the ceiling decorated with colored stuccoes and frescoes, representing the arrival of Ganymede at the feast of the gods. It was painted lightly and harmoniously with colors whose brilliancy seemed quite fresh. The graceful figures, the exquisite fancifulness of landscape and architecture, all the pagan charm, in fact, in its very delicacy, spoke of some pupil of Raphael. Below the moulding were hung several portraits. The aristocratic touch of Van Dyck was apparent at the first glance. Beneath the huge canvases antique statues were grouped on the floor, and stools that had once been gilded, shaped like the letter X, and without backs, gave the air of a museum to the salon. The three women could not restrain their admiration. "How beautiful it is! What treasures!" they cried. "Look at the Prince," said Corancez, in a whisper to Pierre. "Do you see how disgusted he is? You have got a front seat for a comedy that I can guarantee as amusing. I am going to pay a little attention to my _fiancée_. Don't lose a word; you will find it worth attention." "You think this is beautiful?" said the Prince to the Baroness and Miss Marsh, who stood beside him, while Corancez and Madame Bonnacorsi chatted in a corner. "Well, the ceiling is not too bad in its way. Giovanni da Udine painted it. The Fregoso of that time was jealous of the Perino del Vagas of the Doria Palace. That particular head of the house was my namesake, Cardinal Paolo, the one you know who was a pirate--before he was a cardinal. He summoned another of Raphael's pupils, the one who had aided the master at the Vatican.--Each of those gods has a history. That Bacchus is the cardinal himself, and that Apollo, whose only garment is his lute, was the cardinal's coadjutor!--Don't be shocked, Don Fortunato.--Ah, I see, he has gone off to prepare for the marriage sacrament; _mene malo_.--The Van Dycks, also, are not bad as Van Dycks.--They too have their history. Look at that beautiful woman, with her impenetrable, mysterious smile.--The one holding a scarlet carnation against her green robe.--And then look at that young man, with the same smile, his pourpoint made of the same green material, with the same carnation.--They were lovers, and had their portraits painted in the same costume. The young man was a Fregoso, the lady an Alfani, Donna Maria Alfani.--All this was going on during the absence of the husband, who was a prisoner among the Algerians. They both thought he would never return.--'Chi non muore, si revede,' the cardinal used to like to say, 'He who is not dead always returns.'--The husband came back and slew them both.--These portraits were hidden by the family. But I found them and hung them there."