"Dolores," she said, "you may come and remove this robe. I was very tired last night, and my maid having left me, I fell asleep in my ball costume."
Dolores deftly removed the crushed and ruined robe, and substituted a dressing-gown, while she brushed and arranged the beautiful golden hair that was straying on her shoulders in wild disorder.
"It is the most beautiful hair in de world," she said. "Dere are many ladies would give a fortune to have it on deir own heads."
But Bonnibel did not heed the praise. She had no thought or care for her beauty now. She only said, listlessly:
"Never mind removing the dressing-gown, Dolores, I will lie down again. I am very tired."
"I shall bathe your head with the eau de cologne—shall I?" the maid inquired.
"No, no, only let me rest."
"You will breakfast, at least, madam?" the woman persisted.
"Not now, Dolores. I wish for nothing but rest," she said, as she passed into her boudoir and lay down again upon the sofa.
The maid followed after her.