CONTI. Art is starving, Prince. PRINCE. That must not--shall not be, within the limits of my small dominions. But the artist must be willing to work. CONTI. Work! that is his happiness. But too much work may rain his claim to the title of artist. PRINCE. I do not mean that his works should be many, but his labour much: a little, but well done. But you do not come empty-handed, Conti? CONTI. I have brought the portrait which your Highness ordered; and another which you did not order; but as it is worthy of inspection---- PRINCE. That one, is it? And yet I do not well remember---- CONTI. The Countess Orsina. PRINCE. True. The commission, however, was given rather long ago. CONTI. Our beauties are not every day at the artist's command. In three months, the Countess could only make up her mind to sit once. PRINCE. Where are the pictures? CONTI. In the antechamber. I will fetch them (_exit_). Scene III. PRINCE. Her portrait! Let it come; it is not herself. But perhaps I may see in the picture what I can no longer find in her person. But I have no wish to make such a discovery. The importunate painter! I almost believe that she has bribed him. But even were it so, if another picture which is pourtrayed in brighter colours and on a different canvas, could be obliterated to make room for her once more in my heart, I really think that I should be content. When I loved the Countess, I was ever gay, sprightly, and cheerful; now I am the reverse. But no, no, no; happy or unhappy, it is better as it is. Scene IV. _The_ Prince, Conti, _with the portraits; he places one with the face reversed against a chair, and prepares to show the other_. CONTI. I beg your Highness will bear in mind the limits of our art; much of the highest perfection of beauty lies altogether beyond its limits. Look at it in this position. PRINCE (_after a brief inspection_). Excellent! Conti, most excellent! It does credit to your taste,--to your skill. But flattered, Conti--quite, infinitely flattered! CONTI. The original did not seem to be of your opinion. But, in truth, she is not more flattered than art is bound to flatter. It is the province of art to paint as plastic nature--if there is such a thing--intended her original design, without the defects which the unmanageable materials render inevitable, and free from the ravages which result from a conflict with time. PRINCE.