“Perhaps they are all alive, your mother, and the others,” Carlota almost whispered, as she leaned towards him, listening intently.
“See, I have made you believe in my fantasy, too,” he smiled down at her. “Child, even if they had existed, they would have died under the sword of the Turks like all the rest. I was called Kavec by my friends later on. It has a pleasant meaning, the giver. I have not found out yet what it is I give best to the world, but you could have all I have.”
“He is only trying to prove to you how selfish I am and what a high-minded mountain dweller he is,” laughed Ames. “The car is downstairs and my appointment is for one. You’ll go out with me to rehearsal Tuesday, Carlota, then?”
She rose with a little sigh. When Dmitri talked she forgot the inevitable to-morrow of reality.
“Have courage to refuse if you are doing it against your will,” urged Dmitri. “He is merely a time-server.”
“No.” She shook her head, meeting Ames’s anxious eyes. “I will go Tuesday.”
CHAPTER XII
The learning of Fiametta’s rôle was a delight to Carlota. Once she resolved to sing it at the fête, she threw herself into it with all her heart. Ames would turn from the piano and stare up at her in amazement as she delivered the difficult passages with a perfection of tone and harmony that seemed unbelievable to him, considering the training she had received.
“You will be a sensation,” he told her. “The beautiful Signorita Incognita. Sounds florid, doesn’t it? I want a stately, aloof name for you. Listen, at the dress rehearsal, don’t be too distant with Mrs. Nevins. She really can help you if she wants to.”
Carlota’s fine dark brows had lifted at this, but she had not revolted. She had all of the true artist’s consistency and faithfulness to a rôle, once assumed. When the day arrived, and she went out to Belvoir to the dress rehearsal in the Nevins’s car, she played her part with a vivid charm and adaptability that puzzled Ames. She had her peasant’s costume with her for the fête, but not the royal raiment.