"I have travelled a great deal, monsieur," said Madame Zomaloff, "but I have never seen anything to compare, not with the magnificence, for any millionaire could compass that,--but with the exquisite taste which has presided over every detail in the construction of this mansion. It is really a superb museum. You will pardon me, I trust, but I really cannot refrain from expressing the admiration the superb decoration of this ceiling excites." "The artist's reward should follow admiration for his work, do you not think so, madame?" inquired Florestan, smiling. "So it depends upon you to make the artist who painted that ceiling both proud and happy." And as he spoke Saint-Herem pointed out to Madame Zomaloff one of the most illustrious masters of the modern school of art. "I thank you a thousand times, monsieur, for this piece of good fortune!" exclaimed the young woman, advancing with Florestan toward the artist. "My friend," Saint-Herem said to him, "Madame la Comtesse Zomaloff wishes to express to you her intense admiration for your work." "Not only my admiration, but my gratitude as well," added the lady, graciously. "The profound pleasure the sight of such a _chef-d'oeuvre_ excites certainly places the beholder under a deep obligation to the creator of it." "However pleasing and flattering such praise may be to me, I can take only a part of it to myself," replied the illustrious painter, with great modesty and good taste. "But leaving my own works out of the question entirely, so I may be able to express myself more freely, let me advise you to notice particularly the decorations of the ceiling of the music-room. They are the work of M. Ingres, our Raphael, and will furnish pilgrims of art in days to come with as many objects of adoration as the finest frescoes of Rome, Pisa, or Florence, yet this _chef-d'oeuvre_ would not be in existence but for my friend Saint-Herem. Really, madame, in this extravagant but essentially materialistic age, is it not a delightful phenomenon to meet a Medici, as in the palmy days of the Italian republics?" "That is true, monsieur," replied the countess, quickly, "and history has been only just in--" "Pardon me for interrupting you, madame la comtesse," said Saint-Herem, smiling, "but I am no less modest than my famous friend here, so for fear that your enthusiasm may lead you astray, I must point out the real Medici to you. There he is," added Florestan, pointing to the portrait of Saint-Ramon, as he spoke. "What an austere face!" exclaimed the countess, scrutinising the portrait with mingled surprise and curiosity; then seeing the name inscribed upon the frame, she asked, turning to Florestan in evident astonishment, "Saint-Ramon? What saint is that?" "A saint of my own making, madame. He was my uncle, and, though I am not a pope, I have ventured to canonise this admirable man as a reward for his long martyrdom and for the miracles he has wrought since his death."