"I have been cloister-bred, and it was no very great matter to handle the brush better than my brother novices." "There are pigments, brush, and paper," said the old artist.

"I do not give you glass, for that is another matter, and takes much skill in the mixing of colors.

Now I pray you to show me a touch of your art.

I thank you, Tita! The Venetian glasses, cara mia, and fill them to the brim.

A seat, signor!" While Ford, in his English-French, was conversing with Tita in her Italian French, the old man was carefully examining his precious head to see that no scratch had been left upon its surface.