like a child. Her character seemed to be a compound of cynicism and
simplicity, indifference and daring, gentleness, hardness and pride,
all wonderfully amalgamated under a perfectly self-possessed manner,
and pervaded by the most undeniable charm. It was no wonder that the
poor Baroness was as puzzled as a hen that has hatched a swan.

Sabina had behaved perfectly, so far; the Baroness admitted this, and
it had added considerably to her growing social importance to be
regarded as the girl's temporary guardian. Even royalty had expressed
its approval of her conduct and its appreciation of her generosity,
and it was one of the Baroness's chief ambitions to be noticed by
royalty. She had shown a good deal of tact, too, for she was woman
enough to guess what the girl must feel, and how hard it must be to
accept so much without any prospect of being able to make a return. So
far, however, matters had gone very well, and she had really begun to
look forward to the glory of presenting Sabina in society during the
following winter, and of steering her to a rich marriage, penniless
though she was.

But this morning she had received a new impression which disturbed
her. It was not that she attached much importance to Sabina's wild
talk about working for a living, for that was absurd, on the face of
it; but there was something daring in the tone, something in the
little careless laugh which made her feel that the delicate girl might
be capable of doing very unexpected and dangerous things. The sudden
conviction came upon her that Sabina was of the kind that run away and
make love matches, and otherwise break through social conventions in a
manner quite irreparable. And if Sabina did anything of that sort, the
Baroness would not only lose all the glory she had gained, but would
of course be severely blamed by Roman society, which would be an awful