Nino never heard the last of those few notes, any more than the contessina, literally speaking, ever heard the end of the song.
"Your cousin, about whom you make so much mystery, passed under my window last night," said the young lady the next day, with the usual display of carnation in her cheeks at the mention of him.
"Indeed, signorina?" said Nino, calmly, for he expected the remark. "And since you have never seen him, pray how did you know it was he?"
"How should one know?" she asked, scornfully. "There are not two such voices as his in Italy. He sang."
"He sang?" cried Nino, with an affectation of alarm. "I must tell the maestro not to let him sing in the open air; he will lose his voice."
"Who is his master?" asked Hedwig, suddenly.
"I cannot remember the name just now," said Nino, looking away. "But I will find out, if you wish." He was afraid of putting De Pretis to any inconvenience by saying that the young singer was his pupil. "However," he continued, "you will hear him sing as often as you please, after he makes his début next month." He sighed when he thought that it would all so soon be over. For how could he disguise himself any longer, when he should be singing in public every night? But Hedwig clapped her hands.
"So soon?" she cried. "Then there will be an end of the mystery."
"Yes," said Nino, gravely "there will be an end of the mystery."
"At least you can tell me his name, now that we shall all know it."