. The spell of Italy. t them she now observed the Roman archeol-ogist, Signor Massa, sitting at a rustic table, withhis morning newspaper and chocolate. Constanceknew the gentleman by sight now very well. Hadhe not once helped her up the Via dei Priori in thestorm? Nor was she at all surprised at his presencein the garden down there. The Famiglia Cetti hadexulted openly, as the Signorina knew from Gina,in their distinguished lodger, who was perfectly un-derstood to be conducting serious work of highestimportance among the Etruscan remains at theUniversity, and who had preferred th
. The spell of Italy. t them she now observed the Roman archeol-ogist, Signor Massa, sitting at a rustic table, withhis morning newspaper and chocolate. Constanceknew the gentleman by sight now very well. Hadhe not once helped her up the Via dei Priori in thestorm? Nor was she at all surprised at his presencein the garden down there. The Famiglia Cetti hadexulted openly, as the Signorina knew from Gina,in their distinguished lodger, who was perfectly un-derstood to be conducting serious work of highestimportance among the Etruscan remains at theUniversity, and who had preferred their ultimo pianoto all the grandeurs of the Brufani. To be sure itwas near his work, but it must have been highlyrecommended! Thus it was also not surprising when, on the secondmorning of her work on the pan(4 of the Purita,Constance observed that Signor Massa, with a sur-veyors line in his hand, was busily engaged, even atthat early houi, in taking measurements of theEtruscan gate of San Luca, hard by San PURITA, BY DUCCIO. Virtues in Relief 207 Presently he strolled across the little green andstood not far from her camp-stool, lifting his hatwith the unsmiling courtesy of an Itahan. A bitof talk followed concerning the rehefs, the identityof Duccio, and Ms relation to the della Robbia family,during which Constance worked on steadily, speakingbriefly and not lifting her eyes from her drawing-board. This morning hght was precious, she had hercommission to fill, her five-and-twenty Ure to earn,and however illustrious this Roman scholar might be,it was of little concern to her. All the while Massey was studying in eager, side-long glances the pure, pathetic face under its blackscarf, bent over the drawing-board; the sure, trainedtouch of the flexible hand; the unconscious dignityand grace of the attitude. And still she was thePazienza. Still there rested upon her young shouldersthe weight of that invisible yoke of sorrow, of dep-rivation, of lonehness. So palpably wa
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