Then, as Stella looked up, she laughed softly.
"Did you not know he could sing? He is a bad, wicked, indolent boy. He can do all sorts of things when he likes, but he never will exert himself. He will not sing, now will you?"
He stood looking at Stella, and as if constrained to speak and look at him, Stella raised her eyes.
"Will you sing?" she said, almost inaudibly.
As if waiting for her command, he bent his head and went to the piano.
His fingers strayed over the notes slowly for a moment or two, then he said, without turning his head:
"Have you seen these flowers?"
Stella did not wish to move; but the voice seemed to draw her, and she rose and crossed to the piano.
He looked up.