She went into the cabinet, and brought out a miniature likeness of herself, which represented her, after the Turkish fashion, veiled, and with only one eye uncovered. How livingly beside the twilight of the veil did the open, soul-speaking eye look and strike! How did the flame of its might burn through the covering of mildness! Linda named the master of the magnificent picture, that very Schoppe, and added, he had said in this case the master must, out of reciprocal complaisance, himself praise a work which praised him more partially and powerfully than any other work of his ever had. She explained this difference of his pencil by another cause, which he had stated to her almost in these words: he had, he said, in his earliest youth, loved her mother as long as he had seen her, and afterwards never any one again; and therefore he had, as she resembled her mother, painted her _con amore_, and really striven to bring out something. "O, honest old man!" said Albano, and could hardly keep tears out of the eyes which so often were happy. But it was only the holy pang of friendship; for there darted through him at last, like a beam of lightning through the clearest sky, a presumption made certain by everything,--by Schoppe's diary and Linda's words and Rabette's letter,--that Linda was the soul whom the singular being secretly loved. A sharp pain cut hastily but deeply through his brow; and he conquered himself only by his present younger freshness of spirit, by newly gathered power and force, and by the free thought that a friend may well and easily give up and sacrifice to his friend a _loved_ one, but cannot or dares not so easily surrender _one who loves him_. Julienne said, "The only wonder is that my brother, between two such fantastical beings as this Schoppe and Roquairol, has not himself become one of the same feather." A running fire broke out. Linda said, "Schoppe is only a southern nature in conflict with a northern climate." "Properly with life itself," said Albano. Julienne simply remarked, "I love always rules in life; with neither of them is one ever tranquil and _à son aise_, but only _à leur aise_." She asked him at once about Roquairol. "He was once my friend, and I speak of him no more," said Albano, whose tongue was tied by the ruined favorite's torturing love for Linda, and even his relationship to Liana. Linda glided over the subject with the mere verdict that he was an overstrained weakling, and without special mention of his love for her or of her abhorrence of him. She quite as coldly forgot at a distance every one who was repulsive to her inner being as she did vehemently thrust him off when he was near.