Michel looked at his sister. She was fairly beaming with confidence and joy. The princess had arrayed her in a gown of bright pink silk, with several strings of beautiful great pearls about her neck and arms. A wreath of natural flowers, wonderfully beautiful and arranged with consummate art, crowned her dark face without concealing the abundant treasures of her hair. Her little feet were daintily shod, and her pretty fingers opened and closed Agatha's splendid fan with as much grace and dignity as any _marchesina_. She was a muse of the Renaissance, a patrician maiden, and a lovely damsel of the South, radiant with health, nobility, and poetic charm. Agatha looked at her with an air of motherly pride, and smiled lovingly as she talked of her in Pier-Angelo's ear. Michel then turned his eyes upon Magnani. He was gazing alternately at the modest princess and the lovely silk-spinner of the Catanian suburb with extraordinary emotion. He was no better able than Michel to understand the strange and bewildering dream in which he seemed to be moving. But it is certain that he saw Mila only through a cloud of gold and fire, which emanated from Agatha and was projected upon her young friend as if by magic. XLI JEALOUSY AND GRATITUDE The princess led the marquis and Pier-Angelo aside to tell them that Ninfo was in the Piccinino's hands, and that she had been so informed by an eye-witness of his capture whom she was not at liberty to name. More ices were brought, and the conversation was renewed. Despite Magnani's perturbation and timidity, despite Michel's excitement and preoccupation, the princess and the marquis speedily tranquillized the two young men, thanks to the judicious courtesy and the great art of being simple, which well-bred people possess when the foundation of their character corresponds with the external charm due to exquisite tact. Thus Agatha questioned Michel concerning subjects with which he was familiar, and on which he felt deeply. The young artist was overjoyed by her perfect comprehension of art, and he stored away in his memory several far-reaching definitions which she let fall, her mode of expressing herself was so simple and natural. When she spoke to him she seemed to be consulting rather than instructing him, and her glance, alight with penetrating sympathy, seemed to seek in Michel's eyes confirmation of her own opinions and ideas.