'You understand? Of course! Thank you! Then I will speak in my own
language. I will go out to Miss Donne, if you permit. Luncheon? Ah, if
I could! But I have just eaten. I am sure you have so many good things!
Little Miss Donne--ah! here she is!' At this point Margaret came in, pulling off the old garden hat she had
worn when Lushington had come to see her. She was surprised that the
prima donna did not throw her arms round her and kiss her, but the
artist had judged Mrs. Rushmore in a flash and behaved with almost
English gravity as she took Margaret's hand.
'I have come to Paris expressly to see you,' she said.
'Let me introduce you to Mrs. Rushmore,' said Margaret.
'It is done,' said Madame Bonanni, making a little stage courtesy at
the elder woman. 'I broke into the house like a burglar, and found a
charming hostess waiting to arrest me with the kindest invitation to
luncheon!' 'What a delightful way of putting it!' cried Mrs. Rushmore, much
pleased.
Margaret felt that Madame Bonanni was showing a side of her nature
which she had not yet seen. It had never occurred to the girl that the
singer could make pretty society speeches. But Madame Bonanni had seen
many things in her time.
Margaret carried her off to her own room, after a few words more, for
it was clear that her visitor had something private to say, and had
come all the way from London to say it, apparently out of pure
friendship. Her manner changed again when they were alone. By force of
habit the big woman sat down on the piano-stool and turned over the
music that was open on the instrument, and she seemed to pay no heed to
what Margaret said. Margaret was thanking her for her visit, arranging
the blinds, asking her if there was enough air, for the day was hot,
inquiring about the weather in London, moving about the room with each
little speech, and with the evident desire to start the conversation so
as to find out why Madame Bonanni had come. But the singer turned over
the pages obstinately, looked up rather coldly at Margaret now and
then, and once or twice whistled a few bars of Rigoletto in a way
that would have been decidedly rude, had it not been perfectly clear
that she did not know what she was doing, and was really trying to make
up her mind how to begin. Margaret understood, and presently let her
alone, and just sat down on a chair at the corner of the piano with a
bit of work, and waited to see what would happen.