Nina looked at him, and burst into a mischievous laugh. “So,” she cried, “you are still haunted by the unknown singer? A strange adventure—in truth; you must have heard a witch! Now I understand why you did not praise my singing just now! And our poor innocent countryman, Rossini, must suffer for it! A young man hears a singer at midnight, and fancies her perfection; next day I sing an air which does not please him, because I have not that good fortune! I thank you, sir, for your flattering confession!” and she made him a mocking curtesy.
“But tell me, I conjure you,” persisted Louis, “was it not you—”
“Hold!” cried Nina; “not so solemn. I think if I say yes, I can win you for an admirer of Rossini; so I will say, yes! I am a sort of siren, sir, who entices young artists by her song to worship Rossini even against their will.”
“Nay, then,” answered the young man, “last night’s song was not such an one. Now I really believe you were not the singer. Heaven knows how I could be mistaken; but I see such must have been the case.”
“Then,” replied the maiden, “blame not me; I am innocent; I hope sincerely you will soon find out your mysterious singer, who seems to have so captivated you. Be not unkind, meanwhile, to me, because you did not like my song; I have a favor to beg; take me out on the water; yonder is a boat. The shade of the trees on the bank will protect us from the heat.”
She spoke with so much gentleness and sweetness that Louis felt his growing coldness melt away. He hastened to push off the boat, took up the oars, and gave Nina his hand to help her in. She leaped in gracefully and seated herself opposite him. The boat soon glided swiftly over the smooth waters: Louis looking straight forward, or at his fair companion’s shadow on the water; for a feeling he could not explain, prevented him from looking at herself.
They went on for half an hour without speaking. The boat now glided into a small inlet, shaded by the foliage on high banks. “Let us stop awhile here,” said Nina; and Louis took up his oars. The young girl laid aside her straw hat, pushed her ringlets from her fair brow, and looked on the sweet picture with an expression of delight. Behind the wooded shore rose the walls of the ancient looking hunting-castle, embosomed in picturesque woods. The inlet was in deep shadow, which contrasted with the gleam of sunshine on the waves beyond; and the light flashed like jewels in the foliage above. The soft air, the refreshing coolness of the shade, and the fragrance of flowers that filled the wood, completed the effect of this charming scene. The heart of our young artist was full. He looked at Nina; her head was drooped slightly, but as she raised it with a sudden motion, he saw that tears were in her eyes. “You weep?” said he, taking her hand sympathizingly. “No,” she answered softly, and with a smile, “but there is so much beauty here!” After a moment she withdrew her hand; but not before a light pressure had responded to the expression of her feelings. So passed some minutes, till recovering her vivacity, she suddenly exclaimed—“Mercy! how late it is growing! We must make haste back, or my father will be uneasy!”
They were shortly at the landing-place again; but found the old people had suffered no uneasiness on their account. Both Ricco and his friend were leaning against the trees, fast asleep. Nina awoke the merchant with a mischievous tickling of his red nose, and he started up from a dream of orchestras and violins. After a walk in the castle garden, they returned to their carriage, and drove back to the city.
The next night saw Louis walking for two hours in front of the chapel-master’s house, in hopes of hearing again the mysterious singer. But all remained silent, and he returned disappointed to his lodgings.
As soon as he thought it proper, he paid a visit to Signor Ricco. On the steps he met Nina, going to visit a friend. After replying to his polite inquiry how she had been since the excursion into the country, she had already left him, when she suddenly turned back, saying, “While I think of it, I have found out your wonderful singer; but I cannot approve of your taste!” A flush rushed to the brow of the young artist. “And who is she?” he cried, eagerly. “Oh, sir,” answered Nina, “I can keep a secret, I assure you.”