Her face was turned toward the window, and as she gazed on the morning sky, all unconscious of its translucent brilliancy of blue, there was an inward-looking expression in her luminous eyes that would have made the fortune of an artist, if he could have reproduced her as a Sibyl.

Giovanna looked at her with surprise, that a lady could be so handsome and so beautifully dressed, yet not seem to care for it.

She lingered a moment contemplating the superb head with an exultant look, as if it were a picture of her own painting, and then she went out noiselessly to bring the breakfast-tray.
The Senorita Campaneo ate with a keener appetite than she had ever experienced as Rosabella the recluse; for the forces of nature, exhausted by the exertions of the preceding evening, demanded renovation.

But the services of the cook were as little appreciated as those of the dressing-maid; the luxurious breakfast was to her simply food.

The mirror was at her side, and Giovanna watched curiously to see whether she would admire the effect of the crimson velvet gleaming among her dark hair.