All this was true. The Baroness was at great pains to make much of
her, and the Baron's manner to her was at once flattering, respectful
and paternal. During the first few days she had discovered that if she
accidentally expressed the smallest wish it was instantly fulfilled,
and this was so embarrassing that she had since taken endless pains
never to express any wish at all. Moreover not the slightest allusion
to the misfortunes of her family was ever made before her, and if she
was in total ignorance of the state of affairs, she was at least
spared the humiliation of hearing that the palace was for sale, and
might be sold any day, to any one who would pay the price asked.

From time to time the Baroness said she hoped that Sabina had good
news of her mother, but showed no curiosity in the matter, and the
girl always answered that she believed her mother to be quite well.
Indeed she did believe it, for she supposed that if the Princess were
ill some one would let her know. She wrote stiff little letters
herself, every Sunday morning, and addressed them to her uncle's place
in Poland; but no one ever took the least notice of these
conscientious communications, and she wondered why she sent them,
after all. It was a remnant of the sense of duty to her parents
instilled into her in the convent, and she could not help clinging to
it still, from habit.

She had a few friends of her own age, and they came to see her now and
then. They were mostly companions of her recent convent days, and they
asked her many questions, to most of which she had no answer. She
noticed that they looked surprised, but they were well brought up
girls, and kept their reflections to themselves, until they were at
home.