"At one concert, yes, in Naples," the young lady made answer. "And at two or three matinées" And then she turned to him, with a bright look. "You know this, Leo?—I am offered—no—I
was offered—an engagement to sing in opera; oh, yes; it was the impresario from Malta—he comes to Naples—Pandiani makes us all sing to him—then will I go to Malta, to the opera there? No!"
"Why not, Nina? Surely that was a good opening," he said.
She turned away from him again, and her fingers wandered lightly over the keys of the piano.
"I always say to me, 'Some day I am in England; the English give much money at concerts; perhaps that is better.'"
"So you've come over to England to get a series of concert-room engagements; is that it, Nina?"
She shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.
"Perhaps. One must wait and see. It is not my ambition. No. The light opera, that is—popular?—is it right?"
"Yes, yes."
"It is very popular in England," said the young Italian lady, with her eyes coming back from the music-sheets to seek those of her friend." Well, Leo, if I take a small part to begin, have I voice sufficient? What do you think? No; be frank; say to yourself, 'I am Pandiani; here is Antonia Rossi troubling me once more; it is useless; go away, Antonia Rossi, and not trouble me!' Well, Maestro Pandiani, what you say?"