"Angela, my child, let me see what you have been
doing. All your canvases are covered, or turned with their faces to
the wall;--are we not permitted to look at any of them?"
Angela immediately rose from the piano, and wheeled a large oaken
chair with a carved and gilded canopy, into the centre of the
studio.
"Well, if you want to see my sketches--and they are only sketches,"
she said,--"you must come and sit here. Now," as her uncle obeyed
her, "you look enthroned in state,--that canopy is just fitted for
you, and you are a picture in yourself!--Yes, you are, dearest
uncle! And not all the artists in the world could ever do you
justice I Monsieur l'Abbe, will you sit just where you please?--And
Mr. Leigh, you have seen everything, so it does not matter."
"It matters very much," said Leigh with a smile, "For I want to see
everything again. If I may, I will stand here."
And he took up his position close to the Cardinal's chair.
"But where is the boy?" asked Vergniaud, "Where is the foundling of
the Cathedral?"
"He left us some minutes ago," said Angela, "He went to your room,
uncle."
"Was he pleased with the music?" asked the Cardinal.
"I think he enjoyed every note of it," said Leigh, "A thoughtful
lad! He was very silent while I played,--but silence is often the
most eloquent appreciation.
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