as miriam gave utterance to these words, hilda looked from the picture into her face, and was startled to observe that her friend's expression had become almost exactly that of the pottrait; as if her passionate wish and struggle to penetrate poor beatrice's mystery had been successful.
"o, for heaven's sake, miriam, do not look so!" she cried."what an actress you are! and i never guessed it before.ah! now you are yourself again!" she added, kissing her."leave beatrice to me in future.""cover up your magical picture, then," replied her friend, "else i never can look away from it.it is strange, dear hilda, how an innocent, delicate, white soul like yours has been able to seize the subtle mystery of this portrait; as you surely must, in order to reproduce it so perfectly.well; we will not talk of it any more.do you know, i have come to you this morning on a small matter of business.will you undertake it for me?""o, certainly," said hilda, laughing; "if you choose to trust me with business.""nay, it is not a matter of any difficulty," answered miriam; "merely to take charge of this packet, and keep it for me awhile.""but why not keep it yourself?"asked hilda.
"partly because it will be safer in your charge," said her friend."i am a careless sort of person in ordinary things; while you, for all you dwell so high above the world, have certain little housewifely ways of accuracy and order.the packet is of some slight importance; and yet, it may be, i shall not ask you for it again.in a week or two, you know, i am leaving rome.you, setting at defiance the malarial fever, mean to stay here and haunt your beloved galleries through the summer.now, four months hence, unless you hear more from me, i would have you deliver the packet according to its address."hilda read the direction; it was to signore luca barboni, at the plazzo cenci, third piano.