“Now watch carefully,” said Plucritus, leaning back. “You may learn something, and you may be interested. But do not go to the absurd length of tears like Deborah when she went to see ‘The Only Way.’”
“I will endeavour to restrain myself,” I declared. “The sight of your cheerful countenance will act as an antidote, I have no doubt.”
Just then there walked on the boards a woman. She was dressed very simply, even prettily, which struck me as being a great concession. No sound of applause greeted her, but she came to the front and prepared to sing. I noticed that Vestné was prepared to accompany the song, which appeared to me a most condescending kindness on her part.
She played a few bars and the song began.
It was one of the most beautiful I had ever heard, and contained human pathos, sadness, and at times even mirth. Besides, she rendered it with beautiful expression, such as could only come from one whose whole soul was in the work. I waited till the end, and then after the first spell had passed I looked round, expecting the applause which never came. She stood still too, probably expecting the same thing. But at last, amidst the indifferent silence, someone called out, “That was insipid, and every other note was wrong.” Hereupon followed a chorus of laughing assent, and among the general hubbub she withdrew.
I gazed about with an indignation I found it hard to restrain, till at last my eyes lighted on Plucritus. He was sitting watching me, an amused smile on his face.
“Why don’t you get up and say ‘It’s a lie’?” he whispered.
“I believe,” said I, “the only reason is that I lack moral courage. It can be nothing else.” Whereat he burst out laughing, and one or two of those near us turned to see who it was.
“You there, Plucritus? Why do you laugh?” called one.
“Oh! I have a very amusing companion, who says the lady should be recalled and asked to sing again.”