"I shall be much pleased to hear you," said Miss Hastings.
Pauline Darrell rose and went to the piano. Her face then was as the face of one inspired. She sat down and played a few chords, full, beautiful, and harmonious.
"I will sing to you," she said. "We often went to the opera—papa, Jules, Louis, and myself. I used to sing everything I heard. This is from 'Il Puritani.'"
And she sang one of the most beautiful solos in the opera.
Her voice was magnificent, full, ringing, vibrating with passion—a voice that, like her face, could hardly be forgotten; but she played and sang entirely after a fashion of her own.
"Now, Miss Hastings," she said, "I will imitate Adelina Patti."
Face, voice, manner, all changed; she began one of the far-famed prima-donna's most admired songs, and Miss Hastings owned to herself that if she had closed her eyes she might have believed Madame Patti present.
"This is a la Christine Nilsson," continued Pauline; and again the imitation was brilliant and perfect.
The magnificent voice did not seem to tire, though she sang song after song, and imitated in the most marvelous manner some of the grandest singers of the day. Miss Hasting left her seat and went up to her.
"You have a splendid voice, my dear, and great musical genius. Now tell me, do you know a single note of music?"