The countess was in danger--a fairer, brighter star had arisen. Valentine Charteris was the belle of the most brilliant hall ever given in Florence. When the prince had received his guest, and danced once with Miss Charteris, he asked her if she would like to see his celebrated picture, the "Guinevere," whose fame was spreading fast. "Nothing," she said, "would please her better;" and as the Countess Rosali stood near, the prince included her in the invitation. "Certainly; I never tire of the 'Guinevere,' never weary of the artist's triumph, for he is one of the most valued of my friends." Prince di Borgesi smiled, thinking how much of the fair coquette's admiration went to the artist's talent, and how much to his handsome face. They entered the long gallery, where some of the finest pictures in Italy were hung. The prince led the ladies to the southern end. Valentine saw before her a magnificent painting--tall forest trees, whose thick branches were interwoven, every green leaf distinct and clear; she saw the mellow light that fell through them, the milk-white palfrey and the jeweled harness, the handsome knight who rode near; and then she saw her own face, bright, smiling, glowing with beauty, bright in innocence, sweet in purity. Valentine stared in astonishment, and her companion smiled. "There can be no doubt about the resemblance," said the countess. "The artist has made you Queen Guinevere, Miss Charteris." "Yes," said Valentine, wonderingly; "it is my own face. How came it there? Who is the artist?" "His name is Ronald Thorne," replied the countess. "There is quite a romance about him." The countess saw Miss Charteris grow pale and silent. "Have you ever seen him?" inquired the countess. "Do you know him?" "Yes," said Valentine, "my family and his have been on intimate terms for years. I knew that he was in Italy with his wife." "Ah," rejoined the countess, eagerly, "then perhaps you know all about his marriage? Who was Mrs. Thorne? Why did he quarrel with his father? Do tell us, Miss Charteris." "Nay," said Valentine; "if Mrs. Thorne has any secrets, I shall not reveal them. I must tell mamma they are in Florence. We must call and see them." "I was fond of Mrs. Thorne once," said the countess, plaintively, "but really there is nothing in her." "There must be something both estimable and lovable," replied Valentine quickly, "or Mr. Thorne would never have married her." Prince di Borgesi smiled approval of the young lady's reply. "You admire my picture, Miss Charteris?" he asked. "The more so because it is the work of an old friend," said Valentine; and again the prince admired the grace of her words. "Any other woman in her place," he thought, "would have blushed and coquetted. How charming she is!" From that moment Prince di Borgezi resolved to win Valentine if he could.