"Is that the way you are going to lie still and get well; you must know that yesterday you were very ill."
"I know; but please hand me the looking-glass."
The midwife did as she was bid. Milena took up the glass and looked at herself scrutinisingly, just like an actor who has made up his face.
"I am very much altered, am I not?"
"Oh, but it'll be all over in one or two days! Wait till to-morrow, and——"
"But to-day I think people would hardly recognise me?"
"Oh, it is not quite as bad as that! besides——"
Milena opened her eyes questioningly, and looked at the midwife.
"I care very little whether I am good-looking or not; whom have I to live for now?"
"Come, you must not give up in that way. You are but a child, and have seen but little happiness up to now; you are rich, free, handsome; you'll soon find a husband, only don't talk, take a cup of this good broth, and try to go to sleep."