Nita turns away, and closes the half-opened door between the two studios, not without force.
"Tea is ready," says Sonia; "but what is the matter, dear, you look so gloomy?"
"Nothing," says Nita, "only that"--with a glance at the door--"vexes me so. Such a ladies' studio is only a kind of hospital for ruined feminine existences. There! what an absent-minded being I am! Where is it?--a letter for you; perhaps it contains something interesting." And after some search, Nita finds the letter in the pocket of her jacket. Scarcely has Sophie opened the letter when she cries out for joy.
"Well, what is it, little goose?" asks Nita, quite pleased at Sophie's beaming face.
"The letter is from my cousin, Nikolai Lensky, the son of the famous violinist, you know----"
"I know nothing. I had no suspicion that you were related to Lensky," replies Nita, quickly and harshly.
"My mother was a cousin of his wife," stammers Sophie, somewhat vexed at Nita's unpleasant tone. "Yesterday I met Nikolai at the Jeliagins. He has recently come from St. Petersburg. He will soon come to see me; meanwhile he sends me two tickets to his father's concert day after to-morrow--the concert for which there is not a seat to be had in all Paris, either for good words or for money. So you can rejoice with me."
"Over what?"
"You will go with me to the concert?"
"I?--no."