'Little Miss Donne, little Miss Donne!' she cried, shaking a fat
finger, 'you will turn many heads before long! You shall come to my
cottage in the autumn, when we have the vintage, and there you will
find old Bonanni looking after the work in a ragged straw hat, with no
paint on her cheeks. And in the evening we will sit upon the door-step
together, and you shall tell me how the heads turned round and round,
and I will teach you all the old songs of Provence. Will you come?' 'Indeed, I will,' Margaret answered, smiling. 'I would cross Europe to
see you--you have been so good to me. Do you know? I want you to
forgive me for what I said in the dressing-room about my engagement. I
remember how you looked when I said it, and now I know that you did not
understand. Of course I owe it all to you--but that isn't what you
meant by--"protection"?' The prima donna's expression changed again, and grew hard and almost
sullen.
'Never mind that,' she said, roughly. 'I wasn't thinking of that. I
didn't notice what you said.' She turned her back to Margaret, walked to the window and stood there
looking out while she put on her gloves. But Margaret was humble, in
spite of the rudeness.
'I'm sorry,' she said, following a little way. 'I'm very sorry--I----' Madame Bonanni did not even turn her head to listen. Margaret did not
try to say anything more, but broke off and waited patiently. Then the
elder woman turned quickly and fiercely, buttoning the last button of
her glove.
'If my own son has done much worse to me, why should I care what any
one else can do?' she asked.
But Margaret was obstinate in her humility and would not be put off.
She took one of Madame Bonanni's hands and made her look at her.
'I would not say or do anything that could hurt you for all the world,'
said Margaret, very earnestly. 'I won't let you go away thinking that I
could, and angry with me. Don't you believe me?' There was no resisting the tone and the look, and Madame Bonanni was
not able to be angry long. Her large mouth widened slowly in a bright
smile, and the next moment she threw her arms round Margaret and kissed
her on both cheeks.
'Bah!' she cried, 'I didn't think I could still be so fond of anybody,
since that wretched boy of mine broke my heart! It's ridiculous, but I
really believe there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, child!' She was heartily in earnest, though she little guessed what she was
going to do for Margaret within a few days. But Margaret, who was
really grateful, was nevertheless glad that there was apparently
nothing more that Madame Bonanni could do. She was not quite sure that
the great singer's retirement would prove final; and on cool reflection
she found it hard to believe that the motive for it was the one the
latter alleged, and which had so touched her at first that it had
brought tears to her eyes. The Anglo-Saxon woman could not help looking
at the Latin woman with a little apprehension and a good deal of
scepticism.