th her present imperfect pronunciation of
English, was that of the young French officer played at the New Theatre
by Mlle. Girond. Nor did it lessen his embarrassment to find, as soon as
he mentioned this possibility, that to join the New Theatre was
precisely what Signorina Rossi desired.

"I don't think there would be much difficulty about it, Nina," he was
forced to admit--carefully concealing his reluctance the while.
"Lehmann, that is our manager, is talking about getting up a second
travelling company, for the opera is so popular everywhere; and there is
to be a series of rehearsals of under-studies beginning next Monday, and
you could see all the coaching going on. Then you could sit in front at
night, and watch Mlle. Girond's 'business:' how would you like that,
Nina?--whether what she does is clever or stupid, you would have to copy
it? the public would expect that--"

"Why not?" Nina said, with a pleasant smile. "Why not? I learn. She
knows more; why I not learn?"

"It's a shame to throw away a fine voice like yours on a small part in
comic opera," he said--still with vague dreams before him of a
concert-room career for her.

"But I must begin," said she, with much practical common-sense, "and
while I am in the small part, I learn to act, I learn the stage-affair,
I learn better English, to the end of having a place more important.
Why, Leo, you are too careful of me! At Naples I work hard, I am a slave
to old Pandiani--I suffer everything--can I not work hard here in
London? You think I am an infant? Certainly I am not--no, no--I am
old--old--"

"But light-hearted still, Nina," he said, for she was clearly bent on
laughing away his fears. Then he looked at her, with a little
hesitation. "There's another thing, Nina? about the costume."

"Yes?" she asked, innocently.

"I don't know--whether you would quite like--but I'll show you Mlle.
Girond's dress anyway--then you can judge for yourself," said he. He
called the waiter. He scribbled on a piece of paper, "Photograph of
Mlle. Girond as Capitaine Crepin in 'The Squire's Daughter.'" "Send
round to some stationer's shop, will you, and get me that?"

When the messenger returned with the photograph, Lionel, rather timidly,
put it before her; but, indeed, there was nothing in the costume of
Mlle. Girond to startle any one--the uniform of the boy-officer was so
obviously a compromise. Nina glanced at it thoughtfully.

"Well, Leo," she said, looking up, "yo