“It must have been a great surprise to you, my dear,” said the elder lady kindly.

“What?”

“That your little professor should turn out a great artist in disguise.  It was a surprise to me, too,—­ah, another illusion destroyed.  Dear child!  You have still so many illusions,—­beautiful, pure illusions.  Dieu! how I envy you!” They generally talked French together, though the baroness knows German.  Hedwig laughed bravely.

“I was certainly astonished,” she said.  “Poor man!  I suppose he did it to support himself.  He never told me he gave you lessons too.”  The baroness smiled, but it was from genuine satisfaction this time.

“I wonder at that, since he knew we were intimate, or, at least, that we were acquainted.  Of course I would not speak of it last night, because I saw your father was angry.”

“Yes, he was angry.  I suppose it was natural,” said Hedwig.

“Perfectly natural.  And you, my dear, were you not angry too,—­just a little?”

“I?  No.  Why should I be angry?  He was a very good teacher, for he knows whole volumes by heart; and he understands them too.”

Soon they talked of other things, and the baroness was very affectionate.  But though Hedwig saw that her friend was kind and most friendly, she could not forget the words that were in the air when she chanced to enter, nor could she quite accept the plausible explanation of them which the baroness had so readily invented.  For jealousy is the forerunner of love, and sometimes its awakener.  She felt a rival and an enemy, and all the hereditary combativeness of her Northern blood was roused.

Nino, who was in no small perplexity, reflected.  He was not old enough or observant enough to have seen the breach that was about to be created between the baroness and Hedwig.  His only thought was to clear himself in Hedwig’s eyes from the imputation of having been tied to the dark woman in any way save for his love’s sake.  He at once began to hate the baroness with all the ferocity of which his heart was capable, and with all the calm his bold square face outwardly expressed.  But he was forced to take some action at once, and he could think of nothing better to do than to consult De Pretis.

To the maestro he poured out his woes and his plans.  He exhibited to him his position toward the baroness and toward Hedwig in the clearest light.  He conjured him to go to Hedwig and explain that the baroness had threatened to unmask him, and thus deprive him of his means of support,—­he dared not put it otherwise,—­unless he consented to sing for her and come to her as often as she pleased.  To explain, to propitiate, to smooth,—­in a word, to reinstate Nino in her good opinion.

“Death of a dog!” exclaimed De Pretis; “you do not ask much!  After you have allowed your lady-love, your inamorata, to catch you saying you are bound body and soul to another woman,—­and such a woman! ye saints, what a beauty!—­you ask me to go and set matters right!  What the diavolo did you want to go and poke your nose into such a mousetrap for?  Via!  I am a fool to have helped you at all.”