Steps of rough stone, rude wooden balustrades, a brick pavement in the passages, a dingy whitewash on the walls; these were here the palatial features.

Finally, he paused before an oaken door, on which was pinned a card, bearing the name of Miriam Schaefer, artist in oils.

Here Donatello knocked, and the door immediately fell somewhat ajar; its latch having been pulled up by means of a string on the inside.

Passing through a little anteroom, he found himself in Miriam's presence.
"Come in, wild Faun," she said, "and tell me the latest news from Arcady!" The artist was not just then at her easel, but was busied with the feminine task of mending a pair of gloves.
There is something extremely pleasant, and even touching,--at least, of very sweet, soft, and winning effect,--in this peculiarity of needlework, distinguishing women from men.

Our own sex is incapable of any such by-play aside from the main business of life; but women--be they of what earthly rank they may, however gifted with intellect or genius, or endowed with awful beauty--have always some little handiwork ready to fill the tiny gap of every vacant moment.