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