"The De Reszkes?" said I, as I entered their castle, some ten miles out of Warsaw, and held out my hands for the brothers to clasp.
It was a superb building, with a façade of imposing quality, and not, as I had supposed, built of painted canvas, but of granite. To be sure, there were romantic little balconies distributed about it for Jean to practise on, with here and there a dark, forbidding casement which suggested the most base of Édouard's bass notes; but generally the castle suggested anything but the flimsy structure of a grand-opera scene.
Their reply was instant, and I shall never forget the magnificent harmony of their tones as they sang in unison:
"Miss Witherup—Miss Wi-hith-hith-erup?" they inquired.
"The sa-ha-ha-hay-hame!" I sang, and I haven't a bad voice at all.
"We are glad," sang Jean, in tenor tones.
"We are glad," echoed Édouard, only in bass notes, and then they joined together in, "We are glad, we are glad, to see-hee-hee-hee you."
I wish I could write music, so that I could convey the delightful harmonies of the moment to the reader's ear, particularly the last phrase. If a typographical subterfuge may be employed, it went like this:
"To see—
hee—
hee—
hee
you!"
Start on C, and go a note lower on each line, and you will get some idea of the exquisite musical phrasing of my greeting.