She answered by turning half around, lifting her head, and sending out on the air one full, rich note. It poorly describes my emotions to say I was astonished. If I had been blind and dependent only on what I heard at that moment, I should have thrown myself at her feet and called her Mona. It brought back to me not only every expression of Mona’s marvelous voice, but also every feature and every grace which had formerly so bewitched me. If I had loved her passionately when we were together in the body, it would be difficult to characterize my feelings now that she was present only in memory. These sensations swept over me rapidly, but before I could utter a word my companion spoke again:
“I see you hesitate. Let me complete my proof by saying that you are visiting, with Zenith and Thorwald, at the house of Fronda, and have heard me sing two nights in succession.”
“Then,” I exclaimed, with sorrow and despair in my voice, “I have indeed found Avis, but, alas! I have once more lost Mona.”
“How so?”
“Why, don’t you see? I expected to find Mona and lose Avis. I thought Avis was Mona, a thought born partly of hope, I suppose, but it did not seem possible that there could be two such singers. So you are really Avis. I must try and remember that, and not express any more sorrow at not losing you. If Avis could not be Mona it is certainly a great consolation to find her in you. Let me return with you to Proctor’s; and now, will you not sing for me as we walk?”
“Are you so fond of singing, or is it because you like to be reminded of Mona?”
“Both, I assure you.”
“Does my voice sound like hers in conversation?”
“Oh, no, Mona never talked as we do. Everything she wanted to say she sang.”
“You surprise me,” said Avis. “I should think she would soon become tiresome to her friends.”