Now on one of these evenings it was that Mad. de Chesnac, tiring of our talk, bade Madam Heliodora take her theorba[94] and sing to us some little song. And this she did, not once only, but thrice, and with a voice and manner that was divine. And perceiving me listening to her with great admiration, she gave the theorba on a sudden to me, and begged of me to let them hear some of the songs of my country. Now my singing had used in former days to be much commended, both at Surat and at Goa, but I felt myself greatly discomposed by this command, and cast about with earnest care for the songs that I should sing. And first I sang that famous ode of Sir Henry Wotton, Knt., upon the late Queen of Bohemia, but so entirely was I occupied by the present, and not by the past, that where he had wrote _Philomel_, I sang _Heliodore_, which the ladies perceiving, they did tax me with it, and make very merry. And they considering that ’twas done for the sake of a civil artifice, and commanding that I should spoil no more of my songs for the purpose of a compliment, I did sing Mr Herrick’s beauteous song entitled _To Anthea, who may command him anything_. And over this Mad. de Chesnac did laugh mightily, after I had explained the words (she speaking no English, and Madam Heliodora only an indifferent amount); but my lady withdrew herself into the shade of a curtain, and seemed prodigious thoughtful, I wondering whether she discerned in my voice that ’twas to her I sang in especial. And Mad. de Chesnac demanding another song that should be more grave and profitable, I made choice of that sweet piece of the brave Colonel Lovelace’s, _To Lucasta, on going beyond the seas_. Now this, thought I, must tell my lady how I feel towards her, though I ben’t (at present) going beyond the seas; but to my great dismay, after I had finished, my lady rose from her place and passed quickly from the chamber, and I saw that there was tears on her face. Greatly terrified and ashamed, I looked to Mad. de Chesnac, who essayed immediately to comfort me. “Pray don’t alarm yourself, my young friend. The sensibilities of mademoiselle are very acute, and that pathetical song of yours hath moved her to tears. But she will return immediately.”