stay with the "kind friends" who had offered her a home; that
everything would be right before long; that if she needed any advice
she had better send for Sassi, who had always served the family
faithfully; that gowns were going to be short next year, which would
be becoming to Sabina when she "came out," because she had small feet
and admirable ankles; and that the weather was heavenly. The Princess
added that she would send her some pocket-money before long, and that
she was trying to find the best way of sending it.

In spite of her position Sabina smiled at the last sentence. It was so
like her mother to promise what she would never perform, that it
amused her. She sat still for some time with the letter in her hand
and then took it to the Baroness, for she felt that it was time to
speak out and that the interview could not be put off any longer. The
Baroness was writing in her boudoir. She wrote her letters on large
sheets of an especial paper, stamped with her initials, over which
appeared a very minute Italian baron's coronet, with seven points; it
was so small that one might easily have thought that it had nine, like
a count's, but it was undeniably smart and suggested an assured
position in the aristocracy. No one quite remembered why the late King
had made Volterra a baron, but he undoubtedly had done so, and no one
disputed Volterra's right to use the title.

Sabina read her letter aloud, and the Baroness listened attentively,
with a grave expression.

"Your dear mother--" she began in a soothing tone.

"She is not my 'dear mother' at all," said Sabina, interrupting her.
"She is not any more 'dear' to me than I am to her."