"Don't be so angry," said the woman gently, as Nacha, beside herself with indignation, sat down.
"It's no good complaining. I have seen so many awful things that nothing shocks me, absolutely nothing!"
Her words were correct but had a foreign accent. She was neither pretty nor well dressed; but she had marvellous blue eyes, and looked intelligent. Nacha, who until then had scarcely noticed her, now felt strongly attracted to her; and as they waited there they talked with increasing confidence to one another. Nacha learned that she was of a respected and well-known family of a town in northern France, and that she had come to South America under contract to give some concerts. But the theatres in which her manager required her to sing were of such a kind—the Royal, for instance—that she refused. She had, however, no resources, so finally she made terms with the company, and was taken to a "pension d'artistes," at which she was expected to live. She soon found out what sort of a "pensión" it was, and rebelled against the conditions of life there. After leaving the place abruptly, she tried to earn a living by working in an art shop. The usual temptations followed. Then came a love affair with one of its patrons: it ended badly....
She smiled ironically as she looked at the tangled skein of her memories.
"When I think of my parents," she continued, "I am very unhappy. I would give my life to see them—but it costs so much to go to Europe!"
Madame came bustling in.
"Nacha, will you come, please. I want to introduce you to an old friend of the house—a good friend. Let me see—are you well dressed? Your stockings might be better. Next time do be careful about your foot-wear."
Nacha was about to address her, but Madame began again:
"Be a good girl, child. You're pretty enough—and you have pretty manners, too, I know you have, when you want to!"