e would befall Diana. Her
figure, though slight with the slenderness of immaturity, was built on
the right lines, and her young, eager face, in its frame of raven hair,
was as vivid as a flower--its clear pallor serving but to emphasise the
beauty of the straight, dark brows and of the scarlet mouth with its
ridiculously short upper-lip. Her eyes were of that peculiarly light
grey which, when accompanied, as hers were, by thick black lashes, gives
an almost startling impression each time the lids are lifted, an odd
suggestion of inner radiance that was vividly arresting.

An intense vitality, a curious shy charm, the sensitiveness inseparable
from the artist nature--all these, and more, Baroni's experienced eye
read in Diana's upturned face, but it yet remained for him to test the
quality of her vocal organs.

"Well, we shall see," he said non-committally. "I do not take many
pupils."

Diana's heart sank yet a little lower, and she felt almost tempted to
seek refuge in immediate flight rather than remain to face the inevitable
dismissal that she guessed would be her portion.

Baroni, however, put a summary stop to any such wild notions by turning
on her with the lightning-like change of mood which she came afterwards
to know as characteristic of him.

"You haf brought some songs?" He held out his hand. "Good. Let me see
them."

He glanced swiftly through the roll of music which she tendered.

"This one--we will try this. Now"--seating himself at the piano--"open
your mouth, little nightingale, and sing."

Softly he played the opening bars of the prelude to the song, and Diana
watched fascinatedly while he made the notes speak, and sing, and melt
into each other with his short stumpy fingers that looked as though they
and music would have little enough in common.

"Now then. Bee-gin."

And Diana began. But she was so nervous that she felt as though her
throat had suddenly closed up, and only a faint, quavering note issued
from her lips, breaking off abruptly in a hoarse croak.

Baroni stopped playing.

"Tchut! she is frightened," he said, and laid an encouraging hand on her
shoulder. "But do not be frightened, my dear. You haf a pree-ty face;
if your voice is as pree-ty as your face you need not haf fear."

Diana was furious with herself for failing at the critical moment, and
even more angry at Baroni's speech, in which she sensed a suggestion of
the tolerance extended to the average drawing-r