“Very well, then! The Neapolitans are absurd!” said Vere, with decision. “And what a voice! Ruffo doesn’t sing like that. That shaking sounds—sounds so artificial.”
“And yet I dare say he is very much in earnest.”
Artois was almost pleading a cause against his will.
“Oh!”
The girl gave almost a little puff that suggested a rather childish indignation.
“I like the people best,” she added. “They say what they feel simply, and it means ever so much more. Am I a democrat?”
He could not help laughing.
“Chi lo sa? An Anarchist perhaps.”
She laughed too.
“Bella tu si—Bella tu si! It’s too absurd! One would think—”