She began to study harmony and talked of the sonata in G minor
and the symphony in F major as if she had written them herself. And
forthwith she began to patronise musicians.
Six months after her father's death, the post of a lady-in-waiting was
offered to her. She accepted it. The rolling of drums and military
salutes recommenced, and Helena gradually lost her sympathy with
subalterns. But the mind is as inconstant as fortune, and fresh
experiences again brought about a change of her views.
She discovered one day, and the day was not long in coming, that she
was nothing but a servant. She was sitting in the Park with the
Duchess. The Duchess was crocheting.
"I consider those blue stockings perfectly idiotic," said the Duchess.
Helena turned pale; she stared at her mistress.
"I don't," she replied.
"I didn't ask your opinion," replied the Duchess, letting her ball of
wool roll into the dust.
Helena's knees trembled; her future, her position passed away before
her eyes like a flash of lightning. She went to pick up the wool. It
seemed to her that her back was breaking as she stooped, and her
cheeks flamed when the Duchess took the ball without a word of thanks.
"You are not angry?" asked the Duchess, staring impertinently at her
victim.
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