“Ah,” rejoined the other, “it’s not what it was.  There’s too much of it.  You want diet, walking, and a French stay-maker,” muttered Mademoiselle Virginie through her chevaus-defrise of pins.

“Did the goddess Minerva walk, and employ a
 French stay-maker?  I thought she rode upon clouds, and lived at
a period before waists were invented.”

“What do you mean?”

“This—­that my present project is to try if I can’t make my fortune by sitting as a model for Minerva in the studio of the best sculptor in Pisa.”

“And who is he! (Unwind me a yard or two of that black lace.)”

“The master-sculptor, Luca Lomi—­an old family, once noble, but down in the world now.  The master is obliged to make statues to get a living for his daughter and himself.”

“More of the lace—­double it over the bosom of the dress.  And how is sitting to this needy sculptor to make your fortune?”

“Wait a minute.  There are other sculptors besides him in the studio.  There is, first, his brother, the priest—­Father Rocco, who passes all his spare time with the master.  He is a good sculptor in his way—­has cast statues and made a font for his church—­a holy man, who devotes all his work in the studio to the cause of piety.”

“Ah, bah! we should think him a droll priest in France. (More pins.) You don’t expect him to put money in your pocket, surely?”

“Wait, I say again.  There is a third sculptor in the studio—­actually a nobleman!  His name is Fabio d’Ascoli.  He is rich, young, handsome, an only child, and little better than a fool.  Fancy his working at sculpture, as if he had his bread to get by it—­and thinking that an amusement!  Imagine a man belonging to one of the best families in Pisa mad enough to want to make a reputation as an artist!  Wait! wait! the best is to come.  His father and mother are dead—­he has no near relations in the world to exercise authority over him—­he is a bachelor, and his fortune is all at his own disposal; going a-begging, my friend; absolutely going a-begging for want of a clever woman to hold out her hand and take it from him.”

“Yes, yes—­now I understand.  The goddess Minerva is a clever woman, and she will hold out her hand and take his fortune from him with the utmost docility.”

“The first thing is to get him to offer it.  I must tell you that I am not going to sit to him, but to his master, Luca Lomi, who is doing the statue of Minerva.  The face is modeled from his daughter; and now he wants somebody to sit for the bust and arms.  Maddalena Lomi and I are as nearly as possible the same height, I hear—­the difference between us being that I have a good figure and she has a bad one.  I have offered to sit, through a friend who is employed in the studio.  If the master accepts, I am sure of an introduction to our rich young gentleman; and then leave it to my good looks, my various accomplishments, and my ready tongue, to do the rest.”