e missing work-woman had abruptly left her
place at five minutes' warning, and had departed without confiding to
any one what she thought of doing, or whither she intended to turn her
steps.

Months elapsed The new year came; but no explanatory letter arrived from
Brigida. The spring season passed off, with all its accompaniments of
dressmaking and dress-buying, but still there was no news of her.
The first anniversary of Mademoiselle Virginie's engagement with the
Demoiselle Grifoni came round; and then at last a note arrived, stating
that Brigida had returned to Pisa, and that if the French forewoman
would send an answer, mentioning where her private lodgings were,
she would visit her old friend that evening after business hours. The
information was gladly enough given; and, punctually to the appointed
time, Brigida arrived in Mademoiselle Virginie's little sitting-room.

Advancing with her usual indolent stateliness of gait, the Italian asked
after her friend's health as coolly, and sat down in the nearest chair
as carelessly, as if they had not been separated for more than a few
days. Mademoiselle Virginie laughed in her liveliest manner, and raised
her mobile French eyebrows in sprightly astonishment.

"Well, Brigida!" she exclaimed, "they certainly did you no injustice
when they nicknamed you 'Care-for-Nothing,' in old Grifoni's workroom.
Where have you been? Why have you never written to me?"

"I had nothing particular to write about; and besides, I always intended
to come back to Pisa and see you," answered Brigida, leaning back
luxuriously in her chair.

"But where have you been for nearly a whole year past? In Italy?"

"No; at Paris. You know I can sing--not very well; but I have a voice,
and most Frenchwomen (excuse the impertinence) have none. I met with a
friend, and got introduced to a manager; and I have been singing at the
theater--not the great parts, only the second. Your amiable countrywomen
could not screech me down on the stage, but they intrigued against me
successfully behind the scenes. In short, I quarreled with our principal
lady, quarreled with the manager, quarreled with my friend; and here I
am back at Pisa, with a little money saved in my pocket, and no great
notion what I am to do next."

"Back at Pisa? Why did you leave it?"

Brigida's eyes began to lose their indolent expression. She sat up
suddenly in her chair, and set one of her hands heavily on a little
table by her side.