"I intend him to see it," replied Miss Elisabetha.
"But he should have the right companions—advisers—"
"I shall be with him, madame."
The diva surveyed the figure before her, and amusement shone in her eyes.
"But you will find it fatiguing," she said—"so much journeying, so much change! Nay, ma'm'selle, remain at home in your peaceful quiet, and trust the boy to me." She had sunk back upon her cushions, and, catching a glimpse of her face in the mirror, she added, smiling: "One thing more. You need not fear lest I should trifle with his young heart. I assure you I will not; I shall be to him like a sister."
"You could scarcely be anything else, unless it was an aunt," replied the ancient maiden; "I should judge you fifteen years his senior, madame."
Which was so nearly accurate that the beauty started, and for the first time turned really angry.
"Will you give me the boy?" she said, shortly. "If he were here I might show you how easily—But, ciel! you could never understand such things; let it pass. Will you give me the boy—yes or no?"
"No."
There was a silence. The diva lolled back on her cushions, and yawned.