ularly affected by her singing.

"It's rather absurd, isn't it?" continued the Russian, a mocking light
in her eyes that somehow reminded Diana of Max Errington. "But there
it is. A little triangular box in your throat and a breath of air from
your lungs--and immediately you hold one's heart in your hands!"

Alan Stair and Joan came up to London the day before that on which the
recital was to take place, since Diana had insisted that they must fix
their visit so that the major part of it should follow, instead of
preceding the concert.

"For"--as she told them--"if I fail, it will be nice to have you two
dear people to console me, and if I succeed, I shall be just in the
right mood to take a holiday and play about with you both. Whereas
until my fate is sealed, one way or the other, I shall be like a bear
with a sore head."

But when the day actually arrived her nervousness completely vanished,
and she drove down to the hall composedly as though she were about to
appear at her fiftieth concert rather than at her first. Olga
Lermontof regarded her with some anxiety. She would have preferred her
to show a little natural nervous excitement beforehand; there would be
less danger of a sudden attack of stage-fright at the last moment.

Baroni was in the artistes' room when they arrived, outwardly cool, but
inwardly seething with mingled pride and excitement and vicarious
apprehension. He hurried forward to greet them, shaking Diana by both
hands and then leading her up to the great French pianist, Madame
Berthe Louvigny.

The latter was a tall, grave-looking woman, with a pair of the most
lustrous brown eyes Diana had ever seen. They seemed to glow with a
kind of inward fire under the wide brow revealed beneath the sweep of
her dark hair.

"So thees ees your wonder-pupil, Signor," she said, her smile radiating
kindness and good-humour. "Mademoiselle, I weesh you all the success
that I know Signor Baroni hopes for you."

She talked very rapidly, with a strong foreign accent, and her gesture
was so expressive that one felt it was almost superfluous to add speech
to the quick, controlled movement. Hands, face, shoulders--she seemed
to speak with her whole body, yet without conveying any impression of
restlessness. There was not a single meaningless movement; each added
point to the rapid flow of speech, throwing it into vivid relief like
the shading of a picture.

While she was still chatting to Diana, a sle