"Monseigneur has come and wants to hear you."
"He does me great honor," replied the young girl, "great honor, but how often must I repeat: I will not come."
"Is it allowable to ask why not, my fair one?" said the old lady.
"Because I am not fit for your society," cried Henrica vehemently, "because my head aches and my eyes burn, because I can't sing to-day, and because—because—because—I entreat you, leave me in peace."
Old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten let her fan sink by her side, and said coolly:
"Were you singing two hours ago—yes or no?"
"Yes."
"Then your headache can't be so very bad, and Denise will dress you."
"If she comes, I'll send her away. When I just took the harp, I did so to sing the pain away. It was relieved for a few minutes, but now my temples are throbbing with twofold violence."
"Excuses."