ght of was my voice. And as I had sung a scale
to Signor Vanucci, I did the same for her. And as I sang I kept my eyes
on her face, for somehow I was full of a glorious, careless confidence as
to what her verdict was going to be. Surprise and wonder, and then a sort
of rapt delight, were depicted in turn on her face, and as I sang the
last note she dropped quietly on to the nearest chair and just stared at
me for a moment. Then she began to talk rapidly to herself in Italian,
and for a moment a horrid nervousness did seize me as to what she
thought; but then she came over and kissed me, and I knew it was all
right. Then with her hands on my shoulders, she drew back and looked at
me. 'Wonderful! wonderful! wonderful!' she said in a sort of awed tone.
And then suddenly she asked me how old I was. It was really the first
coherent thing she had said. I said I was nineteen and would soon be
twenty. At that she clenched her hands and flung her arms wide in a sort
of despairing gesture. 'Oh, but we must work, work, work!' she said. Her
pronunciation is not like that, but I can't quite get it.

"At that moment Mrs. Murray's pony-carriage drew up outside the house,
and seeing us through the window she gave the reins to the man and came
in. Madame Martelli fairly turned upon her in a perfect frenzy of
excitement, and wanted to know why--why--why I had not been properly
taught, that I had a marvellous voice, and that if I had not come to
her when I did no one might ever have discovered it. Well, of course,
Madame Martelli talks so fast and in such very broken English, and Mrs.
Murray is so deaf, that she did not understand one-half or one-quarter
of what was said to her. But though Madame Martelli must have seen that
from her bewildered expression she did not mind a bit, she just talked
on and on of all that I must do, and all that she would do for me. And
Mrs. Murray just sat there and listened as well as she could. When Madame
Martelli was quite out of breath with her excitement and the rapidity
with which she had talked, Mrs. Murray said in the quiet, low tones in
which she always speaks, and which sounded then like cold-water drops on
a raging volcano, if there is any sense in that metaphor, which I don't
believe there is, by the way:--

"'I am glad you think, then, that her voice is worth training, and that
you consent to give her lessons.'"

"The very calmness of the reply nearly set off Madame Martelli again. If
I hadn't