"The lunch," said Paul, "unquestionably appeals to you far more than the portrait."
Pippa did not reply. But during the meal she kept looking from the portrait to Paul, as if she might find in his face some explanation of her perplexity.
They were drinking their coffee, which Pippa loved, when Paul's man announced the Duchessa.
The whole atmosphere of the studio seemed suddenly to sparkle with her entrance. Paul sprang to his feet. There was a light in his eyes of which the meanest intelligence might have recognized the interpretation.
"I am punctual to the moment," she said. "And how are you? It is six weeks since we've met." Then she saw Pippa.
"Pippa," said Paul gravely, "may I introduce you to the Duchessa di Corleone."
"Pippa?" queried the Duchessa, with the tiniest and most adorable lift of her eyebrows.
Sara sat down. "Finish your coffee," she said. "And may I have a cup?"
Paul seized the kettle. It was the first time she would have partaken of food or drink in his studio. It marked, in his mind, an epoch.
"It is a pleasure," he said. "It is one of the few achievements of which I am justly proud."
Pippa was gazing at the Duchessa with wide grey eyes. The perplexity in them had vanished.
"Well, Pippa," asked Sara, "and what do you think of my portrait?"
"I know now," said Pippa firmly. "Ze couleur is wrong."
Paul, who was stirring the coffee in a jug, paused a moment to look at her.
Pippa nodded. "The picture," she said, "is red. She"--Pippa looked at the Duchessa--"is blue. Oh, but very blue, like--like zat." She pointed towards a sapphire vase on Paul's mantelpiece.
Paul and Sara looked at each other. There was the tiniest--just the very tiniest--look of triumph in Paul's eyes.
Sara laughed outright. "Mr. Treherne," she said, "aren't you longing to say 'I told you so'?"
"I think," replied Paul, "Pippa has said it for me."
"Then," she said, "it is the colour of the dress that is wrong?"
"Sometimes ze dresses zey not matter," she said thoughtfully, "but for you ze real--oh, but it hurt." She clasped her hands against her heart with a little tragic gesture.
"What's to be done?" asked Sara as Paul handed her the coffee.
"Re-paint the dress, and the whole portrait if necessary," he replied promptly.