"But what are these people?" he said; "what do they do?"
"Oh, you will see," she said, laughing; "how can I tell you. You never dreamt of such things; you will stare your eyes out. Well, there's the Prince, and the little Highnesses, and the old Barotin, the governess, and"—here a change came over the girl's face—"and the Princess is coming soon, I hear, with her 'servente.'"
"The Princess!" said the boy, "does she ever come?"
"Yes, she comes, sometimes," said his companion. "I wish she didn't. She is a bad woman. I hate her."
"Why? and what is her 'servente?'"
"I hate her," said the girl; "her servente is the Count—Cavalière-servente, you know"—and her face became quite hard and fierce—"he is the devil himself."
The little schoolmaster's face became quite pale.
"The devil!" he said, staring with his large blue eyes.
"Oh! you foolish boy!" she said, laughing again, "I don't mean that devil. The Count is a much more real devil than he!"
The boy looked so dreadfully shocked that she grew quite cheerful again.