hind-backs of which nobody
took much notice. It had been discovered long before this, in the
family, that the Contessa's young companion had a name like other
people--that is to say, a Christian name. She was called by the
Contessa, in the rare moments when she addressed her, Bice--that is to
say, according to English pronunciation, Beeshee (you would probably
call it Beetchee if you learned to speak Italian in England, but the
Contessa had the Tuscan tongue in a Roman mouth, according to the
proverb), which, as everybody knows, is the contraction of Beatrice. She
was called Miss Beachey in the household, a name which was received--by
the servants at least--as a quite proper and natural name; a great deal
more sensible than Forno-Populo. Her position, however, in the little
party was a quite peculiar one. The Contessa took her for granted in a
way which silenced all inquisitive researches. She gave no explanation
who she was, or what she was, or why she carried this girl about with
her. If she was related to herself, if she was a dependent, nobody knew;
her manner gave no clue at all to the mystery. It was very seldom that
the two had any conversation whatsoever in the presence of the others.
Now and then the Contessa would send the girl upon an errand, telling
her to bring something, with an absence of directions where to find it
that suggested the most absolute confidence in her young companion. When
the Contessa sang, Bice, as a matter of course, produced herself at the
right moment to play her accompaniments, and got herself out of the way,
noiselessly, instantly, the moment that duty was over. These
accompaniments were played with an exquisite skill and judgment, an
exact adaptation to the necessities of the voice, which could only have
been attained by much and severe study; but she never, save on these
occasions, was seen to look at a piano. For the greater part of the time
the girl was invisible. She appeared in the Contessa's train, always in
her closely-fitting, perfectly plain, black frock, without an ornament,
at luncheon and dinner, and was present all the evening in the
drawing-room. But for the rest of the day no one knew what became of
this young creature, who nevertheless was not shy, nor showed any
appearance of feeling herself out of place, or uncomfortable in her
strange position. She looked out upon them all with frank eyes, in which
it was evident there was no sort of mist, either of timidity or
ign