Tito indicated the required dimensions, and Piero marked them on a piece of paper.
“And now for the book,” said Piero, reaching down a manuscript volume.
“There’s nothing about the Ariadne there,” said Tito, giving him the passage; “but you will remember I want the crowned Ariadne by the side of the young Bacchus: she must have golden hair.”
“Ha!” said Piero, abruptly, pursing up his lips again. “And you want them to be likenesses, eh?” he added, looking down into Tito’s face.
Tito laughed and blushed. “I know you are great at portraits, Messer Piero; but I could not ask Ariadne to sit for you, because the painting is a secret.”
“There it is! I want her to sit to me. Giovanni Vespucci wants me to paint him a picture of Oedipus and Antigone at Colonos, as he has expounded it to me: I have a fancy for the subject, and I want Bardo and his daughter to sit for it. Now, you ask them; and then I’ll put the likeness into Ariadne.”
“Agreed, if I can prevail with them. And your price for the Bacchus and Ariadne?”
“ Baie! If you get them to let me paint them, that will pay me. I’d rather not have your money: you may pay for the case.”
“And when shall I sit for you?” said Tito; “for if we have one likeness, we must have two.”