k her head.

"No, no, Leo, I know what I do," she said. "I shall never have the grand
style--never--but you think I am improved? Yes. Well, now, I sing
something else."

He forgot all about her lack of a chaperon; they were fellow-students
again, as in the old days at Naples, when they worked hard (and also
played a little), when they comforted each other, and strove to bear
with equanimity the grumbling and querulousness of that
always-dissatisfied old Pandiani. Signorina Rossi now sang the Shadow
Song from "Dinorah;" then she sang the Jewel Song from "Faust;" she sang
"Caro nome" from "Rigoletto," or anything else that he could suggest;
and her runs and shakes and scale passages were delivered with a freedom
and precision that again and again called forth his applause.

"And you have never sung in public, Nina?" he asked.

"At one concert, yes, in Naples," the young lady made answer. "And at
two or three _matinees_" And then she turned to him, with a bright look.
"You know this, Leo?--I am offered--no--I was offered--an engagement to
sing in opera; oh, yes; it was the _impresario_ from Malta--he comes to
Naples--Pandiani makes us all sing to him--then will I go to Malta, to
the opera there? No!"

"Why not, Nina? Surely that was a good opening," he said.

She turned away from him again, and her fingers wandered lightly over
the keys of the piano.

"I always say to me, 'Some day I am in England; the English give much
money at concerts; perhaps that is better.'"

"So you've come over to England to get a series of concert-room
engagements; is that it, Nina?"

She shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.

"Perhaps. One must wait and see. It is not my ambition. No. The light
opera, that is--popular?--is it right?"

"Yes, yes."

"It is very popular in England," said the young Italian lady, with her
eyes coming back from the music-sheets to seek those of her friend."
Well, Leo, if I take a small part to begin, have I voice sufficient?
What do you think? No; be frank; say to yourself, 'I am Pandiani; here
is Antonia Rossi troubling me once more; it is useless; go away, Antonia
Rossi, and not trouble me!' Well, Maestro Pandiani, what you say?"

"So you want to go on the stage, Nina?" said he; and again the dread of
finding himself responsible for this solitary young stranger sent a
qualm to his heart. It was an embarrassing position altogether; but at
the same time the thought of shaking her off--of getting free