meant to be, Camilla and her husband disagree, having agreed to. 'Tis a
plot to deceive Count Orso--aha? You are acquainted with Count Orso! He
is Camilla's antenuptial guardian. Now you warm to it! In that
condition I leave you. Perhaps my child here will give you a taste of
her voice. The poetry does much upon reflection, but it has to ripen
within you--a matter of time. Wed this voice to the poetry, and it finds
passage 'twixt your ribs, as on the point of a driven blade. Do I cry
the sweetness and the coolness of my melons? Not I! Try them."

The signorina put her hand out for the scroll he was unfolding, and cast
her eyes along bars of music, while Agostino called a "Silenzio tutti!"
She sang one verse, and stopped for breath.

Between her dismayed breathings she said to the Chief:--

"Believe me, signore, I can be trusted to sing when the time comes."

"Sing on, my blackbird--my viola!" said Agostino. "We all trust you.
Look at Colonel Corte, and take him for Count Orso. Take me for pretty
Camillo. Take Marco for Michiela; Giulio for Leonardo; Carlo for Cupid.
Take the Chief for the audience. Take him for a frivolous public. Ah,
my Pippo!" (Agostino laughed aside to him). "Let us lead off with a
lighter piece; a trifle-tra-la-la! and then let the frisky piccolo be
drowned in deep organ notes, as on some occasions in history the people
overrun certain puling characters. But that, I confess, is an
illustration altogether out of place, and I'll simply jot it down in my
notebook."

Agostino had talked on to let her gain confidence. When he was silent
she sang from memory. It was a song of flourishes: one of those be-