“This is the young lady of whom you spoke to me?”

“Yes, madame, it is she.  Let me introduce you.  Madame Savelli—­Miss Evelyn Innes.”

“Does mademoiselle wish to sing as a professional or as an amateur?”

The question was addressed at once to Evelyn and to Owen, and, while Evelyn hesitated with the French words, Owen answered—­

“Mademoiselle will be guided by your advice.”

“They all say that; however, we shall see.  Will mademoiselle sing to me?  Does mademoiselle speak French?”

“Yes, a little,” Evelyn replied, timidly.

“Oh, very good.  Has mademoiselle studied music?”

“Yes; my father is a musician, but he only cares for the very early music, and I have hardly ever touched a piano, but I play the harpsichord....  My instrument is the viola da gamba.”

“The harpsichord and the viola da gamba!  That is very interesting, but”—­and Madame Savelli laughed good-naturedly—­“unfortunately we have no harpsichord here, nor yet a spinet only the humble piano.”

“Miss Innes will be quite satisfied with your piano, Madame Savelli.”

“Now, Sir Owen, I will not have you get cross with me.  I must always have my little pleasantry.  Does he get cross with you like that, Miss Innes?”

“I didn’t get cross with you, Madame Savelli.”

“You wanted to, but I would not let you—­and because I regretted I had not a harpsichord, only a humble piano!  Mademoiselle knows, I suppose, all the church songs.  I only know operas....  You see, Sir Owen, you cannot silence me; I will have my little pleasantry.  I only know opera, and have nothing but the humble piano.  But, joking apart, mademoiselle wants to study serious opera.”

“Yes; mademoiselle intends to study for the stage, not for the church.”

“Then I will teach her.”

“You have three classes here.  Mademoiselle would like to go into the opera class.”

“In the opera class I How you do go on, Sir Owen!  If mademoiselle can go into the opera class next year, I shall be more than satisfied, astonished.”

“Perhaps you’ll be able to say better if mademoiselle will be able to go into the opera class when you have heard her sing.”

“But I know, my dear Sir Owen, that is impossible.  You don’t believe me.  Well, I am prepared to be surprised.  It matters not to me.  Mademoiselle can go into the opera class in three months if she is sufficiently advanced.  Will mademoiselle sing to me?  Are these her songs?” Madame Savelli took the music out of Sir Owen’s hands.  “I can see that this music would sound better on the harpsichord or the spinet....  Now, Sir Owen, I see you are getting angry again.”

“I’m not angry, Madame Savelli—­no one could be angry with you—­only mademoiselle is rather nervous.”

“Then perhaps my pleasantry was inexpedient.  Let me see—­this is it, isn’t it?” she said, running her fingers through the first bars....  “But perhaps you would like to accompany mademoiselle?”