At this moment the door opened, and a young girl entered—one of those insignificant, gentle, yielding creatures, generally found amongst the attendants of an artiste—a tete de souffrance, on whom they exhaust their humor, their scorn, and their passion; the humble companion, kept in the background when blessed with the society of distinguished and wealthy adorers. The companion of Barbarina did not suffer, however, from this hard fate. She was Barbarina's sister, and had followed her from tender love to the cold north. The signora loved her sister fondly; she was the companion of her joys and sorrows; she had no secrets from her, and knew that an open ear and judicious counsel were always to be found with her little sister Marietta.
Barabrina lay, still dreaming, upon the divan. Possibly she did not know that Marietta stood by her side, and laid her hand upon her shoulder.
"Sorella," said she, "get up; many gentlemen are in the saloon, waiting for you."
"Let them wait. I will see no one to-day."
"It is the hour when you are accustomed to receive, Sorella, and if you do not come they will think you are still unwell."
"Well, let them think so."
"They will not only think so, Sorella; they will say so, and make malicious comments."
"What comments?" said Barbarina, raising herself up; "what comments,
Marietta?"
"It was indeed unfortunate that your sickness came upon you just as the king appeared," said Marietta.
Barbarina's eyes flashed. "Do you think they will put those things together?" said she. "They will say, perhaps, that Barbarina fainted at the unexpected appearance of the king; that the joy of seeing him overcame her; is that your meaning, Marietta?"