“Yes, he is very kind,” said Gorgo, ignoring Dada’s indignant tone. “And the last few hours have brought him terrible sorrows. You have heard, no doubt, that he has lost his mother; you knew her—she had taken quite a fancy to you, I suppose you know.”
“Oh! forget it!” cried Dada.
“She was hard to win,” Gorgo went on, “but she liked you. Do you not believe me? You should have seen how carefully she chose the dress you have on at this minute, and matched the ornaments to wear with it.”
“Pray, pray say no more about it,” Dada begged. “She is dead, and I have forgiven her—but she thought badly, very badly of me.”
“It is very bad of you to speak so,” interrupted Gorgo, making no attempt to conceal her annoyance at the girl’s reply. “She—who is dead—deserves more gratitude for her liberality and kindness!”
Dada shook her head.
“No,” she said firmly. “I am grateful, even for the smallest kindness; I have not often met with disinterested generosity. But she had an end in view—I must say it once for all. She wanted to make use of me to bring shame on Marcus and grief on his mother. You surely must know it; for why should you have thought me too vile to sing with you if you did not believe that I was a good-for-nothing hussy, and quite ready to do your dead grandmother’s bidding? Everybody, of course, looked down upon us all and thought we must be wicked because we were singers; but you knew better; you made a distinction; for you invited Agne to come to your house and sing with you.—No, unless you wish to insult me, say no more about my owing the dead lady a debt of gratitude!”
Gorgo’s eyes fell; but presently she looked up again and said:
“You do not know what that poor soul had suffered. Mary, her son’s widow, had been very cruel to her, had done her injuries she could never forgive—so perhaps you are right in your notion; but all the same, my grandmother had a great liking for you—and after all her wish is fulfilled, for Marcus has found you and he loves you, too, if I am not mistaken!”
“If you are not mistaken!” retorted Dada. “The gods forefend!—Yes, we have found each other, we love each other. Why should I conceal it?”