"I can sing 'Sweet Marie.'"
"I am sure we shall all be glad to hear it. I sometimes sing a little myself—just a tiny bit."
"I shall like much to hear you, signora."
"I shall feel very bashful about singing to an Italian gentleman. You will laugh at me."
"No, no, I would not be so rude."
"Then perhaps I may. Our friends always insist upon hearing me."
So at an early period in the evening she sang one of her routine songs.
I watched the Count's face while she was singing. I was amused. At first his expression was one of surprise. Then of pain, and it seemed to me of annoyance. When Mrs. Wyman had completed the song she turned to him a look of complacent inquiry. She was looking for a compliment.
"Didn't I do horribly?" she asked.
"Oh, no, no," answered the Count, vaguely.