"Take away those draperies; it is suffocatingly hot," said Beatrice. "Oh, you ask me what I think?--Do you find her pretty?"
"I have never seen any one like her!" said the tire-woman, boldly. "It is to be supposed that my taste is not perfect, but it is the expression of my opinion. She is beautiful, wonderfully beautiful!"
"Indeed? you think her wonderfully beautiful?" repeated Beatrice, with a mixture of scorn and anger. "You are very enthusiastic, it seems!"
"I only wished to express the highest point of beauty. Perhaps I should have said beautiful as an angel!--And, indeed, your Majesty, I always imagined that an angel would look like her!"
Beatrice endeavored to restrain her anger, but in spite of herself, she colored and grew pale by turns.
"Oh! she is only a child yet, not fourteen they say, and before the age of twenty she may change a great deal. You know that pretty children often grow up into ugly women."
"The proverb will be wrong here, your Majesty. The young girl's beauty is still only in the bud, but we can already foresee what it will become. When the rose shall be fully blown, I would advise no one to come near who is not perfectly sure that she can bear the comparison."
"Enough of this nonsense! Hermengarde is betrothed to Count Rechberg, and I wish to do everything to please him. Go and find out if Rechberg will be here soon, for I am curious to witness their meeting. You may invite her to the collation of which I will partake with her."