“I can wait; the Kyria is out.”
“Then pull that little table close to my bed. Ah! How it hurts my head! Scarcely can I open my eyes.”
“Close them,” said Mattina; “I will tell you when it boils.”
Deftly she pulled forward the little table, straightened the tumbled sheets, and closed the open shutters so that the hot afternoon sun should not pour on the bed. Then she stood by the spirit lamp, and watched the frothing mixture.
“It boils,” she announced at last.
The young woman opened her eyes.
“Ah, the glare is gone!” she said, “how well that is for my poor eyes. But you are a good fairy, my little one! Now bring the cup from that shelf …. No; bring two! There is plenty of chocolate, and I am quite sure you like it also.”
“I do not know,” said Mattina. “It smells good but I have never tasted it.”
“Never tasted chocolate! Oh, the poor little one! Quick! Bring a cup here, and bring also that box of biscuits from the lower shelf! I am sure you are hungry. Is it not so?”
“Yes,” assented Mattina, “I am always hungry. My mistress,” she added gravely, “says that I eat like a locust falling on young leaves.”