"What is that?" There was a noise of hurrying footsteps
and murmuring voices,--that sort of half-muffled confusion in a
household which bodes something wrong,--and all at once Prince
Sovrani threw open the door of the Cardinal's apartments without
ceremony, crying out as he entered,--
"Where is Angela?"
The Cardinal rose out of his chair, startled and alarmed.
"Angela?" he echoed, "She is not here!"
"Not here!" Prince Sovrani drew a sharp breath, and his face visibly
paled,--"It is very strange! Her studio is locked at both entrances-
-yet the servants swear she has not passed out of the house! Besides
she never goes out without leaving word as to where she has gone and
when she is coming back!"
"Her studio is locked on both sides!" repeated the Cardinal, "But
that is quite easy to understand--her picture is unveiled, and no
one is to be permitted to see it until to-morrow."
"Yes--yes--" said the Prince Pietro impatiently, "I know all that,--
but where is Angela herself? There is no sign of her anywhere! She
cannot have gone out. Her maid tells me she was not dressed to go
out. She was in her white working gown when last seen. Santissima
Madonna!"--and old Sovrani gave a wild gesture of despair--"If any
harm has happened to the child .
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