Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush.
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