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We will have a little talk. Margaret thought her new friend had managed to talk a good deal already. Madame Bonanni slipped between the easels and pedestals with surprising ease and lightness, and made for the divan. Margaret now saw that a stool was half concealed by a fallen pillow, so that the singer used it in order to climb up.
Do you see? That was how it all happened and still I was good, as good as you are! Yes "of course," as you say! It was easy enough! 'He died young, didn't he? Margaret asked quietly. She had seated herself on the corner of the toilet-table to listen, while Madame Bonanni leaned back in the low chair and looked at herself, sometimes absently, some times with pity. 'Yes, she answered.
It was a little thing, but one of those little things that only a born great singer could have done faultlessly at the first attempt; and Madame Bonanni listened with rare delight. Then she laughed, as happily as if she had no heartaches in the world. 'Little Miss Donne, little Miss Donne! she cried, shaking a fat finger, 'you will turn many heads before long!
'He loves you, said Madame Bonanni, still looking at her. 'I have guessed it. It is very hard for me to get him to like me a little, and he would not forgive me if the really good critics said I was a better artist than you. That would be one thing more against me, my dear, and he has so many things against me already! So I have given it up. Why should I go on singing, now?
'I'm beginning to think that it may be more effective than we thought, answered Madame Bonanni, with a little laugh. 'Good-bye, my dear. 'Won't you come and dine with me afterwards? asked Margaret, who had begun to change her dress. 'There will only be Madame De Rosa. You know she could not get here in time for the rehearsal, but she is coming before nine o'clock. 'No, dear.
'He never said anything of the kind! cried Margaret, taking his part with energy. 'Because he always says just what he thinks, explained Madame Bonanni, who seemed relieved. 'And the worst part of it is that he knows, she added, thoughtfully. 'I do not pretend to understand what he writes, but I would take his opinion about music rather than any one's.
That sounds rather well. 'Yes. Do you like it, my dear? asked Madame Bonanni. 'But I don't know a word of Spanish 'What in the world has that to do with it? It is a good name. You may have your Chartreuse, Logotheti. Margarita da Cordova, the great Spanish soprano! Your health! You were born in the little town of Boveguado in Andalusia.
'Lord! she exclaimed, laconically, as she looked at herself and realised the full extent of the damage done. 'Wouldn't you like to wash your face? asked Margaret, following her at a discreet distance. 'My dear, answered Madame Bonanni, in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone, 'it's awful, of course, but there's nothing else to be done! 'Come into my dressing-room.
But Madame Bonanni was impatient, and as no telegram came when she expected one, she did not wait for a possible letter. To Margaret's dismay and stupefaction, she appeared at Versailles about luncheon time, arrayed with less good taste than the lilies of the field, but yet in a manner to outdo Solomon in all his glory, and she was conveyed in a perfectly new motor car.
'I taught my cook the real way to make it, Madame Bonanni said. 'I am a good cook, a very good cook! I always did the cooking at home before I came to Paris to study, because my mother was not able to stand long. One of the farm horses had kicked her and broken her leg and she was always lame after that. Well? she asked suddenly turning to the cheerful servant.
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