Giulia remembered, the next morning, as her cameriera was warping some pearls into her hair, that she had meant and half engaged to try a course of mortification on the Cardinal's departure. She therefore put on an old green gown, with bouffonnée sleeves, which was almost too worn for a duchess; and, in a very easy pair of slippers, sat down to her morning refection. Some sweetmeats allured her, but she took a piece of plain bread and a glass of lemonade; after which, she thought "Well done, resolution!" and tasted the sweetmeats after all. Moderately, however. After this, she sat for a good while in a waking dream; and then, rousing herself, determined to go to church, but found it was too late. She thought she would send for the poor widow of whom Bar Hhasdai had spoken to her; but just then, Caterina came to tell her that her lapdog had run a thorn into its foot; and as one act of mercy would do for another, she superintended the dressing of the little animal's paw, and did not send for the widow. After this, she inspected the embroidery of her maids of honour, and thought of fourteen rhymes as the skeleton of a sonnet. She had advanced thus far in this well-spent day, when the sound of horses' feet made her suddenly aware of the approach of a visitor. Now, our Duchess did not like being caught; it was very seldom, indeed, that she _could_ be caught in déshabille; for she enjoyed the consciousness of being at all times a perfectly well-dressed woman. It was hard, therefore, to be found in half-toilette the only time in all the season that such a misfortune could have occurred; especially as it would not be known to partake of the meritorious nature of a penance. However, the mortification would be all the more complete. Who could the visitor be? The Bishop of Fondi? She looked into the court-yard, and saw a grave, elderly person in ecclesiastical habit, with four mounted attendants, descending somewhat stiffly from his horse. His face was rather plain; his figure tall and imposing. He had a snub nose, high, broad forehead, small, penetrating eyes, and auburn hair and beard a little silvered. In a few minutes the maggior-domo announced "Messer Sebastiano Veneziano." The Duchess uttered an exclamation of joy, and advanced, beaming with smiles, to meet him. Never had she looked more lovely: the painter started, and paused for a moment, as she approached. The next instant, her white hand was in his. "Welcome, Messer Sebastiano, welcome! How good of you to grace my poor house!" "Illustrious Lady, his Holiness the Pope desired me to give you his paternal greeting." "I gratefully thank his Holiness." "--And his Eminence, Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici kisses your hands, and supplicates of your condescension that you will remember your promise to let my poor pencil limn your features."