A thin hand, without any preliminary knock, now opened the door and old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten walked up to her niece.

The elderly dame had once been beautiful, now and at this hour she presented a strange, unpleasing appearance.

The thin, bent figure was attired in a long trailing robe of heavy pink silk.  The little head almost disappeared in the ruff, a large structure of immense height and width.  Long chains of pearls and glittering gems hung on the sallow skin displayed by the open neck of her dress, and on the false, reddish-yellow curls rested a roll of light-blue velvet decked with ostrich plumes.  A strong odor of various fragrant essences preceded her.  She herself probably found them somewhat overpowering, for her large glittering fan was in constant motion and fluttered violently, when in answer to her curt:  “Quick, quick,” Henrica returned a resolute “no, ’ma tante.’”

The old lady, however, was not at all disconcerted by the refusal, but merely repeated her “Quick, quick,” more positively, adding as an important reason: 

“Monseigneur has come and wants to hear you.”

“He does me great honor,” replied the young girl, “great honor, but how often must I repeat:  I will not come.”

“Is it allowable to ask why not, my fair one?” said the old lady.

“Because I am not fit for your society,” cried Henrica vehemently, “because my head aches and my eyes burn, because I can’t sing to-day, and because—­because—­because—­I entreat you, leave me in peace.”

Old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten let her fan sink by her side, and said coolly: 

“Were you singing two hours ago—­yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Then your headache can’t be so very bad, and Denise will dress you.”

“If she comes, I’ll send her away.  When I just took the harp, I did so to sing the pain away.  It was relieved for a few minutes, but now my temples are throbbing with twofold violence.”

“Excuses.”

“Believe what you choose.  Besides—­even if I felt better at this moment than a squirrel in the woods.  I wouldn’t go down to see the gentlemen.  I shall stay here.  I have given my word, and I am a Hoogstraten as well as you.”

Henrica had risen, and her eyes flashed with a gloomy fire at her oppressor.  The old lady waved her fan faster, and her projecting chin trembled.  Then she said curtly: 

“Your word of honor!  So you won’t!  You won’t!”

“Certainly not,” cried the young girl with undutiful positiveness.

“Everybody must have his way,” replied the old lady, turning towards the door.  “What is too wilful is too wilful.  Your father won’t thank you for this.”  With these words Fraulein Van Hoogstraten raised her long train and approached the door.  There she paused, and again glanced enquiringly at Henrica.  The latter doubtless noticed her aunt’s hesitation, but without heeding the implied threat intentionally turned her back.