caused two of the small globes to revolve, sending soft waves of sound
through the room.

I advanced towards her, but she raised her hand apprehensively. "No, no,
no; stand there," she said, "and sing low."

It was hard to see her troubled face and obey, but I was not going to
bellow at her like a bull, and I had set my heart on this trial. For the
last three days, while working in the fields, I had been incessantly
practicing my dear old master Campana's exquisite _M'appar sulla
tomba_, the only melody I happened to know which had any resemblance
to their divine music. To my surprise she seemed to play as I sang a
suitable accompaniment on the globes, which aided and encouraged me,
and, although singing in a subdued tone, I felt that I had never sung so
well before. When I finished, I quite expected some word of praise, or
to be asked why I had not sung this melody on that unhappy evening when
I was asked to lead; but she spoke no word.

"Will you sing something now?" I said.

"Not now--this evening," she replied absently, slowly walking across the
floor with eyes cast down.

"What are you thinking of, Yoletta, that you look so serious?" I asked.

"Nothing," she returned, a little impatiently.

"You look very solemn about nothing, then. But you have not said one
word about my singing--did you not like it?"