again. "And you want them to be likenesses, eh?" he added, looking down into Tito's face.
Tito laughed and blushed. "I know you are great at portraits, Messer Piero; but I could not ask Ariadne to sit for you, because the painting is a secret."
"There it is! I want her to sit to me. Giovanni Vespucci wants me to paint him a picture of Œdipus and Antigone at Colonos, as he has expounded it to me: I have a fancy for the subject, and I want Bardo and his daughter to sit for it. Now, you ask them; and then I'll put the likeness into Ariadne."
"Agreed, if I can prevail with them. And your price for the Bacchus and Ariadne?"
"Bale! If you get them to let me paint them, that will pay me. I'd rather not have your money: you may pay for the case."
"And when shall I sit for you?" said Tito, "for if we have one likeness, we must have two."
"I don't want your likeness—I've got it already," said Piero, "only I've made you look frightened. I must take the fright out of it for Bacchus."
As he was speaking, Piero laid down the book and went to look among some paintings, propped with their faces against the wall. He returned with an oil-sketch in his hand.
"I call this as good a bit of portrait as I ever did," he said, looking at it as he advanced. "Yours is a
