And presently he returned with the cup.
‘Now that you’ve nearly killed me,’ I said, ‘and spoilt my dress, perhaps you’ll explain.’
He produced the silk-bound book of manuscript from his pocket and put it in my unoccupied hand.
‘I want you to read it to me aloud, all of it,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘What a strange boy you are!’ I chided.
Then I drank the tea, straightened my features into seriousness, and began to read.
The reading occupied less than an hour. He made no remark when it was done, but held out his hand for the book, and went out for a walk. At dinner he was silent till the servants had gone. Then he said musingly:
‘That scene in the cloisters between Louise and De Montespan is a great idea. It will be magnificent; it will be the finest thing in the opera. What a subject you have found! what a subject!’ His tone altered. ‘Magda, will you do something to oblige me?’