Teresa's mouth twitched.
'I will give you some advice,' said Brühl, 'when you sing, always turn towards the King, look at him, smile to him, be coquettish. If he applaud you, you are first.'
'But in the meanwhile that old Faustina is first. The King is ruled by habit, and has no taste. She has a coarse voice and grey hair. But it does not matter, she is a diva, and we compars!'
'Teresa, listen,' said Brühl, 'do not despair, it shall be changed, Faustina shall return home, you shall remain.'
'I would prefer the contrary,' Teresa muttered.
'I have not time to-day to talk that matter over with you,' said Brühl. 'At any minute I expect Padre Guarini to rap at the door. Tell old Beppo to let him in. I could not see him elsewhere and I told him to come here. Give him something sweet, but not your lips which are the sweetest, and leave us alone.'
Teresa listened with indifference; then as though forced to obey, she rose and moved slowly towards the door calling her old woman, to whom she whispered a few words. Brühl paced up and down the room.
Teresa turned, looked at him and went to the sofa, but a muffled knock at the door forced her to rise again to welcome the Jesuit.
A swift step was heard on the stairs and the long face of the Padre, smiling kindly, appeared in the doorway. He noticed Teresa as she put in order the things scattered about the room.
'Let that be,' he exclaimed. 'I am not a guest, but one of the family. I feel so happy to be with my countrymen.'