‘So it is,’ said Diana angrily. ‘I recognise his voice. He calls it “mezzo-soprano.” It’s dreadful. I told him never to sing unless he had somebody to sing to. Of course I thought no one would ever come to the moon. I wonder whom he’s singing to?’
‘I rather imagine he thinks he’s singing to me,’ said the Princess hesitatingly. ‘I begged him not to sing; but he insisted. So I ran away, and I suppose he thinks I’m still there, for, you see, he can’t see me.’
‘Oh, he thinks you’re still there, does he?’ said Diana. ‘Just make yourself invisible, and I’ll do the same, and we’ll go a little closer.’
The Princess did as she was told, and Diana urged the stags in the direction of the voice.
The rattling of the wheels was quite drowned in the noise of the Man’s voice, as he sang:
‘And you’ll remember me . . e . . e,
And you’ll remember me.’
‘You’ve improved a good deal in that last line,’ said the Goddess. ‘I wish you’d sing it over again.’