Miss Hallam smiled with calm disdain.
“It is not of the least use to speak of such a thing. You and I look at the matter from quite different points of view, and to argue about it would only be to waste time.”
Von Francius, with a sarcastic, ambiguous smile, turned to me:
“And you, mein Fräulein?”
“I—no. I agree with Miss Hallam,” I murmured, not really having found myself able to think about it at all, but conscious that opposition was useless. And, besides, I did shrink away from the ideas conjured up by that word, the “stage.”
“So!” said he, with a little bow and a half smile. “Also, I must try to make the round man fit into the square hole. The first thing will be another trial of your voice; then I must see how many lessons a week you will require, and must give you instructions about practicing. You must understand that it is not pleasure or child’s play which you are undertaking. It is a work in order to accomplish which you must strain every nerve, and give up everything which in any way interferes with it.”
“I don’t know whether I shall have time for it,” I murmured, looking doubtfully toward Miss Hallam.
“Yes, May; you will have time for it,” was all she said.
“Is there a piano in the house?” said von Francius. “But, yes, certainly. Fräulein Sartorius has one; she will lend it to us for half an hour. If you were at liberty, mein Fräulein, just now—”
“Certainly,” said I, following him, as he told Miss Hallam that he would see her again.