"That is what Milady said," Bice answered demurely. "I think she would help me to work, to get something to do. But she did not tell me what it would be; perhaps to teach children; perhaps to work with the needle. I know that is how it happens in the Tauchnitz. You do not read them, and, therefore, do not know; but I am instructed in all these things. The girl who is poor like me is always beautiful; but she never thinks of it as we do. She becomes a governess, or perhaps an artiste; or even she will make dresses, or at the worst _tapisserie_."
"And this she says to you--to you!" cried the Contessa, with flaming eyes.
"Oh, restrain yourself, Madama! It does not matter at all. She makes the great marriage just the same. It is not Milady who says this, it is in the Tauchnitz. It is the English way. Supposing," said Bice, "that I remain as I am? Something will have to be done with me. Put me, then, as a governess in a great family where there is a son who is a great nobleman, or very rich; and you shall see it will so happen, though I never should be beautiful at all."
"My child," said the Contessa, "all this is foolishness. You will not remain as you are. I see a little difference every day. In a little time you will be dazzling; you will be ready to produce. A governess! It is more likely that you will be a duchess; and then you will laugh at everybody--except me," said Madame di Forno-Populo, tapping her breast with her delicate fingers, "except me."
Bice looked at her with a searching, inquiring look. "I want to ask something," she said. "If I should be beautiful, you were so before me--oh, more, more!--you we----are very lovely, Madama."
The Contessa smiled--who would not smile at such a speech? made with all the sincerity and simplicity possible--simplicity scarcely affected by the instinct which made Bice aware before she said it, that to use the past tense would spoil all. The Contessa smiled. "Well," she said, "and then?"
"They married you," said Bice with a curious tone between philosophical remark and interrogation.
"Ah!" the Contessa said. She leaned back in her chair making herself very comfortable, and shook her head. "I understand. You think then it has been a--failure in my case? Yes, they married me--that is to say there was no they at all. I married myself, which makes a great difference. Ah, yes, I follow your reasoning very well. This woman you say was beautiful, was all that I hope to be, and married; and what has come of it? It is quite true. I speak to you as I speak to no one, Bice mia. The fact was we deceived each other. The Conte expected to make his fortune by me, and I by him. I was English, you perceive, though no one now remembers this. Poor Forno-Populo! He was very handsome; people were pleased to say we were a magnificent pair--but we had not the _sous_: and though we were fond of each other, he proceeded in one direction to repair his fortunes, and I--on another to--_enfin_ to do as best I could. But no such accident shall happen in your case. It is not only your interest I have in hand; it is my own. I want a home for my declining years."