CHAPTER XI.
"Queen Guinevere" was a success far beyond Ronald's dearest hopes.
Artists and amateurs, connoisseurs of all ranks and degrees were delighted with it.

The great charm of the picture was the lovely young face.

"Whom was it like ?" "Where had he found his model ?" "Was ever any woman so perfectly beautiful ?" Such were the questions that people never seemed tired of repeating.
The picture was hung in the gallery of the palace, and the Prince di Borgezi became one of Ronald's best patrons.
The prince gave a grand ball in honor of a beautiful English lady, who, with her family, had just arrived in Florence.

Countess Rosali raved about her, wisely making a friend where any one else would have feared a rival.
Ronald had contrived an invitation, but was prevented from attending.
All the elite of Florence were there, and great was the excitement when Countess Rosali entered the ball room with an exceedingly beautiful woman--a queenly blonde--the lady about whom all Florence was interested--an English heiress, clever as she was fair, speaking French with a courtly grace and Italian with fluent skill; and when the prince stood before her he recognized in one moment the original of his famous "Guinevere." The countess was in danger--a fairer, brighter star had arisen.
Valentine Charteris was the belle of the most brilliant hall ever given in Florence.
When the prince had received his guest, and danced once with Miss Charteris, he asked her if she would like to see his celebrated picture, the "Guinevere," whose fame was spreading fast.
"Nothing," she said, "would please her better;" and as the Countess Rosali stood near, the prince included her in the invitation.
"Certainly; I never tire of the 'Guinevere,' never weary of the artist's triumph, for he is one of the most valued of my friends." Prince di Borgesi smiled, thinking how much of the fair coquette's admiration went to the artist's talent, and how much to his handsome face.
They entered the long gallery, where some of the finest pictures in Italy were hung.

The prince led the ladies to the southern end.
Valentine saw before her a magnificent painting--tall forest trees, whose thick branches were interwoven, every green leaf distinct and clear; she saw the mellow light that fell through them, the milk-white palfrey and the jeweled harness, the handsome knight who rode near; and then she saw her own face, bright, smiling, glowing with beauty, bright in innocence, sweet in purity.