"Probably. But you'll not be expected to talk. You may be told to do some writing or carry messages."
"Is that all?" She seemed rather disappointed. Emile felt for a moment almost inclined to develop scruples. She evidently regarded Anarchy at large as a species of particularly exciting diversion.
"Who are the other women mixed up with it?" she asked.
"There are no other women. You should feel honoured that we are having you."
Emile stood up, having completed his renovating operations. "You want to sing, eh?" Arithelli assented eagerly. "You will work?" Emile demanded.
"Yes!" Her eyes had become suddenly like green jewels, and she looked almost animated. She was more interested in Emile's music than in any other part of him. His wild Russian ballads sung with his strange clipped accent and fiery emphasis, fascinated her. She was content to listen for an indefinite period of time, her long body in a restful attitude, her feet crossed, her hands in her lap, as absolutely immovable as one who is hypnotised.
Emile, for his part, was equally interested in her exploits in vocalism, which he found as extraordinary and unexpected as everything else about her. Her singing voice was so curiously unlike her speaking voice that it might have belonged to another person. It had tremendous possibilities and a large range, but it was hoarse and harsh, and yet full of an uncanny attraction. In such a voice a sorceress of old might have crooned her incantations. Where did this girl get her soul, her passion, he wondered; she who was only just beginning life.
He flung over an untidy pile of music, and dragged out the magnificently devilish "Enchantement" of Massenet. "Try this," he said abruptly. "It's your kind of song."
For half-an-hour he exhorted, bullied and instructed, losing both his composure and his temper. Arithelli lost neither. "I don't understand music," she observed calmly. "But show me what to do and I'll do it. Mine's a queer voice, isn't it? A regular croak."
"You've got a voice; yes, that's true, but you don't know how to produce it, and you've no technique. You want plenty of scales."