“I went to bed, but not to sleep for many hours. When I entered my room, and stopped before the mirror, the diamonds among the flowers of my wreath glistened like stars. I took it from my head, and after removing the jewels, and a beautiful ring hanging to it, I placed it in water with my bouquets. Sleep seemed to fly my eyelids. However, for long after I had gone to bed, the plaudits of the audience, and the languid eyes of the gentleman in the stage box, seemed alternately to ring in my ears, or swim before my eyes. At last, the angel Sleep kindly weighed down my eyelids with her rosy fingers, and I forgot the opera, the gentleman, and the bouquets.
CHAPTER VI.
“I awoke in the morning, persuaded that it was all a fairy dream, when, glancing at my toilet table, I was convinced of the reality of my adventure, by seeing the flowers still lying where I had left them. I examined the jewels, and found them as radiant by daylight as they had been the night before, wondering at this unknown and munificent gift. I laid them carefully away in my dressing-case, and descended to the breakfast table, where I found my guardian and Madame Bonni busily engaged in discussing the merits of my performance; both were praising me—she with a woman’s impulse and enthusiasm, Monsieur in a man’s quiet, reasoning way.
“‘How do you feel after last night’s effort?’ inquired the gentleman.
“‘Very well, sir, but rather fatigued,’ I answered.
“‘How sweet you looked in the last act, my dear; those white lace robes were so becoming to you; and when the flowers were thrown on the stage, and the actor placed that superb wreath upon your head, I thought the effect exquisite,’ observed Madame, with feminine admiration of dress.
“‘I am glad you were pleased with me.’
“‘You sing again to-night, do you not, in the same opera?’
“‘Yes, for five nights in Norma.’