“The studies were delivered to us in London,” continued the Duke.  “They are of Ludwig the tragedian, and of the German Prime Minister, two most valuable works, and especially interesting to us.  They came without any note or message which would inform us who had sent them, and when my people made inquiries, the dealer refused to tell them from whom they had come.  He had been ordered to forward them to Grasse, but, on learning of our presence in London, sent them direct to our hotel there.  Of course it is embarrassing to have so valuable a present from an anonymous friend, especially so for my sister, to whom they were addressed, and I thought that, besides the pleasure of meeting one of whose genius I am so warm an admirer, I might also learn something which would enable me to discover who our friend may be.”  He paused, but as Carlton said nothing, continued:  “As it is now, I do not feel that I can accept the pictures; and yet I know no one to whom they can be returned, unless I send them to the dealer.”

“It sounds very mysterious,” said Carlton smiling; “and I am afraid I cannot help you.  What work I did in Germany was sold in Berlin before I left, and in a year may have changed hands several times.  The studies of which you speak are unimportant, and merely studies, and could pass from hand to hand without much record having been kept of them; but personally I am not able to give you any information which would assist you in tracing them.”

“Yes,” said the Duke.  “Well, then, I shall keep them until I can learn more; and if we can learn nothing, I shall return them to the dealer.”

Carlton met Miss Morris that afternoon in a state of great excitement.  “It’s come!” he cried—­“it’s come!  I am to meet her this week.  I have met her brother, and he has asked me to dine with them on Thursday night; that’s the day before they leave for Athens; and he particularly mentioned that his sisters would be at the dinner, and that it would be a pleasure to present me.  It seems that the eldest paints, and all of them love art for art’s sake, as their father taught them to do; and, for all we know, he may make me court painter, and I shall spend the rest of my life at Grasse painting portraits of the Princess Aline, at the age of twenty-two, and at all future ages.  And if he does give me a commission to paint her, I can tell you now in confidence that that picture will require more sittings than any other picture ever painted by man.  Her hair will have turned white by the time it is finished, and the gown she started to pose in will have become forty years behind the fashion!”