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Updated: June 22, 2025
And then, as she grew older, she was made a little lady's-maid to the Princess; and though she had no wages, she worked and mended, and put Angelica's hair in papers, and was never cross when scolded, and was always eager to please her mistress, and was always up early and to bed late, and at hand when wanted, and in fact became a perfect little maid.
You, Rosalba, would have been so flattered, that your little head might have been turned like Angelica's, who thought herself too good for Giglio. 'As if anybody could be good enough for HIM, cried Rosalba. 'Oh, you, you darling! says Giglio.
And then, as she grew older, she was made a little lady's-maid to the Princess; and though she had no wages, she worked and mended, and put Angelica's hair in papers, and was never cross when scolded, and was always eager to please her mistress, and was always up early and to bed late, and at hand when wanted, and in fact became a perfect little maid.
As soon as the duke's temper was restored, they consulted the party collectively at afternoon tea in the oriel room on the subject of Angelica's dissatisfaction. Diavolo affected to share it, but that was only by way of being agreeable, as he inadvertently betrayed. "I suppose I shall have to do something myself," he drawled in his lazy way.
It was not in Angelica's nature to conceal anything she had done from her friends for long, and before she had been twenty-four hours at the castle she had taken her Aunt Claudia, and the lady known to them all intimately as "Ideala," into her confidence; but neither of them attempted to improve the occasion. They said even less than her uncle had done, and this reticence perplexed Angelica.
Angelica concluded derisively. "Your Aunt Claudia and her friend are also here," Lady Fulda corrected her with dignity. "Not exactly a successful attempt to be gracious," Angelica's thoughts ran on. "Ah, well! What does it matter? Live and let live, forget and forgive forgetting is forgiving, and everyone forgets" and then again piano "The lonely grave, the lonely grave."
"I should like to know," he said, with his uncanny grin, "how you found out those lines were mine, for I certainly never told you that I wrote them." The Tenor's mind misgave him. "Didn't you?" he said, looking at the ashes. The Boy threw himself back on the sofa. "They were Angelica's!" he said, with a shout of laughter. "And now you look as if you would like to have them back again.
The spirit disappeared; and the magician journeying with his companion to the sea-coast, raised another, who entered Angelica's horse, and carried her, to her astonishment and terror, out to sea, and so round to some lonely rocks.
The Tenor tried to stop this last performance, but he only made matters worse, for the Boy argued the question out in Angelica's voice, taking the part of "dear Claude" he still insisted that his name was Claude and ending with: "Dear Israfil, we are so happy ourselves, I think Claude should have a little latitude to-night. He studies so hard, poor boy, he deserves some indulgence."
The Reynoldses too, Little Comedy's face, And the Captain in Lace Tell each other to rue Your Devonshire crew, For sending so late To one of my state. But 'tis Reynolds's way From wisdom to stray, And Angelica's whim To befrolic like him; But alas! your good worships, how could they be wiser, When both have been spoil'd in to-day's 'Advertiser'?"
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