“Oh no. I wish he would. Because then I should be able to reply like a true friend, and send him away. Consider, dear, it is not like a nobody dangling after a public singer; that is common enough. We are all run after by idle men; even Signorina Zubetta, who has not much voice, nor appearance, and speaks a Genoese patois when she is not delivering a libretto. But for a gentleman of position, with a heart of gold and the soul of an emperor, that he should waste his time and his feelings so, on a woman who can never be anything to him, it is pitiable.” “Well, but, after all, it is his business; and he is not a child: besides, remember he is really very fond of music. If I were you I'd look another way, and take no notice.” “But I cannot.” “Ah! And why not, pray?” “Because he always takes a box on my left hand, two from the stage. I can't think how he gets it at all the theaters. And then he fixes his eyes on me so, I cannot help stealing a look. He never applauds, nor throws me bouquets. He looks: oh, you cannot conceive how he looks, and the strange effect it is beginning to produce on me.” “He mesmerizes you?” “I know not. But it is a growing fascination. Oh, my dear physician, interfere. If it goes on, we shall be more wretched than ever.” Then she enveloped Rhoda in her arms, and rested a hot cheek against hers. “I see,” said Rhoda. “You are afraid he will make you love him.” “I hope not. But artists are impressionable; and being looked at so, by one I esteem, night after night, when my nerves are strung--_cela m'agace;”_ and she gave a shiver, and then was a little hysterical; and that was very unlike her. Rhoda kissed her, and said resolutely she would stop it. “Not unkindly?” “Oh no.” “You will not tell him it is offensive to me?” “No.” “Pray do not give him unnecessary pain.” “No.” “He is not to be mortified.” “No.” “I shall miss him sadly.” “Shall you?” “Naturally. Especially at each new place. Only conceive: one is always anxious on the stage; and it is one thing to come before a public all strangers, and nearly all poor judges; it is another to see, all ready for your first note, a noble face bright with intelligence and admiration--the face of a friend. Often that one face is the only one I allow myself to see. It hides the whole public.” “Then don't you be silly and send it away. I'll tell you the one fault of your character: you think too much of other people, and too little of yourself. Now, that is contrary to the scheme of nature. We are sent into the world to take care of number one.” “What!” said Ina; “are we to be all self-indulgence? Is there to be no principle, no womanly prudence, foresight, discretion? No; I feel the sacrifice: but no power shall hinder me from making it. If you cannot persuade him, I'll do like other singers. I will be ill, and quit the company.”