"What a beautiful lady," said Ambition, "and what a wonderful song she is singing to the child."
"You may praise the mother as you will," said Death, "but it is the child which engages my attention and absorbs my admiration. How I wish the child were mine!"
But Ambition continued to regard Griselda with an eye of covetousness; the song Griselda sang to her babe seemed to have exerted a wondrous spell over the spirit.
"I know a way," suggested Death, "by which we can possess ourselves of these two—you of the mother and I of the child."
Ambition's eyes sparkled. He longed for the beautiful mother.
"Tell me how I may win her," said he to Death, "and you shall have the babe."
So Death and Ambition walked in the street and talked of Griselda and her child.
Griselda was a famous singer. She sang in the theatre of the great city, and people came from all parts of the world to hear her songs and join in her praise. Such a voice had never before been heard, and Griselda's fame was equalled only by the riches which her art had brought her. In the height of her career the little babe came to make her life all the sweeter, and Griselda was indeed very happy.
"Who is that at the door?" inquired Charlotte, the old nurse. "It must be somebody of consequence, for he knocks with a certain confidence only those in authority have."
"Go to the door and see," said Griselda.