"Brierley is the man you want to look out for," answered the painter, bending closer over the precious object. "He'll be borrowing it to mix high-balls in unless you keep the cabinet locked." "Monsieur Brierley is too good for any such sacrilege. And now please stand aside, and you, Monsieur High-Muck, will you kindly move your arm?" and he lifted the vase from the cloth and replaced it in the cabinet, adding with a shrewd glance, "You see, it is always wise to keep the most precious things hidden away, with, perhaps, only an edge peeping out to arouse your curiosity--and I have many such." "Like a grisette's slipper below a petticoat," remarked Louis _sotto voce_. "Quite like a grisette's slipper, my dear Monsieur Louis. What a nimble wit is yours! Only, take an old man's advice and don't be too curious." Every one roared, Louis louder than any one, and when quiet reigned once more Herbert, who was determined to keep the talk along the lines which would most interest our landlord, and who had examined the chalice with the greatest interest, said, pointing to the cabinet: "And now show us something else. Here I have lived with these things for weeks at a time and yet am only beginning to find them out. What else have you that is especially rare?" Lemois, who had just closed the door of the cabinet, turned and began searching the room before replying. "Well, there is my bas-relief, my Madonna. It is just behind you--very beautiful and very rare. I do not lock it up; I keep it in a dark corner where the cross-lights from the window can bring out the face in strong relief. Please do me the favor, gentlemen, to leave your seats. I never take it from its place," and he crossed the room and stood beneath it. "This is the only one in existence, so far as I know--that is, the only replica. The original is in the Sistine Chapel, near Ravenna. Bring a candle, please, Monsieur Brierley, so we can all enjoy it. See how beautiful is the Madonna's face--it is very seldom that so lovely a smile has lived in marble--and the tenderness of the mother suggested in the poise of the head as it bends over the Child. I never look at it without a twinge of my conscience, for it is the only thing in this room which I made off with without letting any one know I had it, but I was young then and a freebooter like Monsieur Herbert's man Goringe. I did penance for years afterward by putting a few lira in the poor-box whenever I was in Italy, and I often come in here and say my prayers, standing reverently before her, begging her forgiveness; and she always gives it--that is, she _must_--for the smile has never, during all these years, faded from her face." "But this is plaster," remarked Herbert, reaching up and passing his skilled fingers over the caste. "Very well done, too." "Yes--of course. I helped make the mould myself from the original marble built into the altar--and in the night too, when I had to feel my way about. I am glad you think it is so good."