Her beautiful lips widened in a smile of broad amusement that made her eyes twinkle. Martha looked at her with a speechless adoration which she could not have been so dense as to misunderstand. “How delightful!” said the princess. “It has been so long since I have permitted myself the luxury of a friend that my appetite for one is all the keener.” She had thrown herself back on the lounge, and as Martha sat down by her, the princess again took her hand, saying as she did so: “Now I will tell you two things about myself at the outset of our acquaintance: one is that I love to ask questions; the other is that I hate to be questioned. Will you remember these facts, and will you be as frank with me if I do what you don’t like? I am very nearly certain that we shall get on together admirably, for the reason that I know you have no vulgar curiosity about me or my affairs. You have sense enough to be convinced by one look at my aunt, if there were nothing else, that I am respectable. Now I am pretty confident that you have an impulse to talk out freely to me, and to answer any questions that I may choose to put--all the more so because your general habit is one of strict reserve.” [Illustration: “‘AH, I HAVE MADE A MISTAKE, I SEE.’”] The princess kept her eye on her companion’s face while she was talking, and she could tell by its expression that she had interpreted her correctly. She said so, with a little laugh of contentment, and then added: “Tell me about yourself first of all.” Martha’s countenance fell. “Ah, I have made a mistake, I see,” said the princess. “We have not come to that yet; but we will come to it--you and I. Some of these days you will find yourself telling me all those close-locked secrets of your heart; and yet even they, I fancy, will relate more to others than to yourself. So be it! I can wait. Tell me now about your people--your family here in Paris.” “Well,” began Martha, “there are mama and we four girls--Alice, Marian, Florence, and I. Alice is very handsome, and poor mama has had to shift over to her and to the younger girls, who also bid fair to be charming, all the hopes which she once centered in me. I have been struggled with for years, and finally let alone. Mama agrees to my working at my painting because she has made up her mind that unless I amount to something in that I shall never amount to anything at all; but I don’t think she has much hope of me. She is not far from beautiful herself, and is accustomed to being admired, and it took her a long time to accept my indifference to it. However, it’s quite accepted now; and I even think that, with three other girls to be taken into society, she finds a certain relief in leaving [Illustration: “‘ALICE HAS A FINE VOICE.’”] me out of it. The other girls are studying music and languages. Alice has a fine voice.” “And your father is dead, is he not? Did you not say you had a brother?”