n his purse? That
charmful voice was an unfailing bank from which to draw more. He was
so proud of his darling, so full of praises and admiration, that
Denas really put on an access of genius as she robed herself to his
flattering words. Pleasure, and hope, and a pretty pride in her
husband's eulogies lent her new physical graces. She was conscious
that there were eyes at every window watching Roland and herself leave
the house, and she felt certain that their owners were saying: "What a
handsome couple! How fond they are of each other! What a wonderful
voice she has!"

It is easy to be gay, and even beautiful, to such thoughts; and Roland
and Denas reached Signor Maria's in a glow of good-humour and good
hope. The Signor was at home and ready to receive them. He was a
small, thin, dark man with long, curling black hair and bright black
eyes. He bowed to Roland and looked with marked interest into the
fair, sparkling face of Denas. He was much pleased with her appearance
and quite interested in her ambitions. Then he opened the piano and
said, "Will monsieur play, or madame?"

Roland played and Denas sang her very best. The Signor listened
attentively, and Roland was sure of an enthusiastic verdict; on the
contrary, it was one of depressing qualifications. The Signor
acknowledged the quality of the voice, its charmful, haunting
tones--but for the opera! oh, much more--very, very much more was
needed. Madame must go to Italy for three years and study. She must
learn the Italian language; the French; the German. Ah! then there was
the acting also! Had madame histrionic power? That was indispensable
for the grand opera. But in three years--perhaps four--with fine
teachers her voice might be very rich, very charming. _Now_ it was
harsh, crude, unformed. Yes, it wanted the soft, mellowing airs of
Italy. Where had madame been living--what was called "brought up?"

Denas answered she had always lived by the sea, and the Signor nodded
intelligently and said: "Yes! yes! that was what he heard in her
voice; the fresh wild winds--yes, wild and salt! It is airs from the
rose gardens, velvety languors off the vineyards, heat and passions of
the sunshine madame wants. Indeed, monsieur may take madame to Italy
for two, three, perhaps four years, and then expect her to sing. Yes,
then, even in grand opera."

This was undoubtedly the Signor's honest opinion, but Roland and Denas
were greatly depressed by it; Denas especially so, fo