An elderly Englishwoman, quite copper-coloured, with very long teeth and the figure of a tallow dip, seems to be of a different opinion. She is just confessing in very problematical French to the barytone from Florence how much she repents not having voice enough 'pour remplir un opera,' and her eyes fill with tears.
Natalie Lipinski has not yet arrived.
With a pleasant greeting to the two sisters of the barytone, and to the crazy Miss Frazer, Stella passes as quietly as possible to her place.
After della Seggiola has ended his discourse, and Monsieur Meyare has finished his 'Dolcessi perduti,' Miss Frazer sings the waltz from 'Traviata' transposed a fifth lower than the original key, breathing very loud, and singing very low. In the middle of it she stops short, lays her red hand, covered to the knuckles with a knitted wristlet, upon her heart, and sighs.
"What is it?" asks della Seggiola, not without a certain impatience. "What is the matter?"
"This aria is so deeply affecting," sighs the Englishwoman; "it always gives me palpitation of the heart."
"That is very unfortunate," says della Seggiola, taking a pinch of snuff. "Pray consult a physician; he will prescribe digitalis."
"Oh, the doctor could not help me," Miss Frazer asserts, wagging her head to and fro with enthusiasm. "My nervous system is too highly strung. If my voice were only stronger I should certainly have a succès upon the stage,--parce que je suis très-passionnée."
Della Seggiola bites his lip. At this moment the door opens, Natalie Lipinski enters, and behind her--Stella can hardly believe her eyes--Zino Capito!
"Permit me to present to you my cousin, Prince Capito, Signor della Seggiola," says Natalie, in her fluent but hard-sounding Russian-French. "He hopes to be allowed to profit by your instructions."