“Then, I will be another Giovanna to you.”

Teresina then said, “I hesitated to receive you at first, for your sake as well as mine; it you are safe now.  I learn that your master and mistress, after searching vainly for you, have returned to Poland.”

From this time Anielka commenced an entirely new life.  She took lessons in singing every day from the Signora. and got an engagement to appear in inferior characters at the theater.  She had now her own income, and her own servant—­she, who till then had been obliged to serve herself.  She acquired the Italian language rapidly, and soon passed for a native of the country.

So passed three years.  New and varied impressions failed, however, to blot out the old ones.  Anielka arrived at great perfection in her singing, and even began to surpass the prima donna, who was losing her voice from weakness of the chest.  This sad discovery changed the cheerful temper of Teresina.  She ceased to sing in public; for she could not endure to excite pity, where she had formerly commanded admiration.

She determined to retire.  “You,” she said to Anielka, “shall now assert your claim to the first rank in the vocal art.  You will maintain it.  You surpass me.  Often, on hearing you sing, I have scarcely been able to stifle a feeling of jealousy.”

Anielka placed her hand on Teresina’s shoulder, and kissed her.

“Yes,” continued Teresina, regardless of everything but the bright future she was shaping for her friend.  “We will go to Vienna—­there you will be understood and appreciated.  You shall sing at the Italian Opera, and I will be by your side—­unknown, no longer sought, worshiped—­but will glory in your triumphs.  They will be a repetition of my own; for have I not taught you?  Will they not be the result of my work!”

Though Anielka’s ambition was fired, her heart was softened, and she wept violently.

Five months had scarcely elapsed, when a furore was created in Vienna by the first appearance, at the Italian Opera, of the Signora Giovanna.  Her enormous salary at once afforded her the means of even extravagant expenditure.  Her haughty treatment of male admirers only attracted new ones; but in the midst of her triumphs she thought often of the time when the poor orphan of Pobereze was cared for by nobody.  This remembrance made her receive the flatteries of the crowd with an ironical smile; their fine speeches fell coldly on her ear, their eloquent looks made no impression on her heart:  that, no change could alter, no temptation win.

In the flood of unexpected success a new misfortune overwhelmed her.  Since their arrival at Vienna, Teresina’s health rapidly declined, and in the sixth month of Anielka’s operatic reign she expired, leaving all her wealth, which was considerable, to her friend.