Take her with you; that will be the best way!"
"You, then, very heartily hate this poor little princess?" asked Alexis,
laughing.
"Yes," said she, after a short reflection, "I hate her. And would you
know why, signor? Not for her beauty, not for her youth, but for her
talents! And she has great talents! Ah, there was a time when I hated
her, although I knew her not. But now, now it is different. I now not
only hate, but fear her! For she can rival me, not only in love, but in
fame! Ah, you should have seen her on that evening! She was like a swan
to look at, and her song was like the dying strains of the swan. And
all shouted applause, and all the women wept; indeed, I myself wept,
not from emotion, but with rage, with bitterness, for they had
forgotten me--forgotten, for this new poetess; they overwhelmed her with
flatteries, leaving me alone and unnoticed! And yet you ask me if I hate
her!"
Quite involuntarily had she suffered herself to be carried away by
her own vehemence, her inward glowing rage. With secret pleasure Count
Orloff read in her features that this was no comedy which she thus
improvised, but was truth and reality.
"If you so think and feel," said he, "then we may soon understand
each other, signora.
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