The fact is, he began to see more and more clearly that she was resolved upon trying her fortune on the lyric stage; and he thought it his duty to let her know very distinctly what she would have to encounter. He did not exactly try to dissuade her; but he gave her a general idea of what she might expect, and that in not too roseate colors. His chief difficulty, however, was this: he was possessed by a vague feeling that there might be some awkwardness in having Antonia Rossi engaged at the same theatre with himself; and yet, looking round all the light operas then being performed, he had honestly to confess that the only part Nina could aspire to take, with her present imperfect pronunciation of English, was that of the young French officer played at the New Theatre by Mlle. Girond. Nor did it lessen his embarrassment to find, as soon as he mentioned this possibility, that to join the New Theatre was precisely what Signorina Rossi desired. "I don't think there would be much difficulty about it, Nina," he was forced to admit--carefully concealing his reluctance the while. "Lehmann, that is our manager, is talking about getting up a second travelling company, for the opera is so popular everywhere; and there is to be a series of rehearsals of under-studies beginning next Monday, and you could see all the coaching going on. Then you could sit in front at night, and watch Mlle. Girond's 'business:' how would you like that, Nina?--whether what she does is clever or stupid, you would have to copy it? the public would expect that--" "Why not?" Nina said, with a pleasant smile. "Why not? I learn. She knows more; why I not learn?" "It's a shame to throw away a fine voice like yours on a small part in comic opera," he said--still with vague dreams before him of a concert-room career for her. "But I must begin," said she, with much practical common-sense, "and while I am in the small part, I learn to act, I learn the stage-affair, I learn better English, to the end of having a place more important. Why, Leo, you are too careful of me! At Naples I work hard, I am a slave to old Pandiani--I suffer everything--can I not work hard here in London? You think I am an infant? Certainly I am not--no, no--I am old--old--" "But light-hearted still, Nina," he said, for she was clearly bent on laughing away his fears. Then he looked at her, with a little hesitation. "There's another thing, Nina? about the costume." "Yes?" she asked, innocently. "I don't know--whether you would quite like--but I'll show you Mlle. Girond's dress anyway--then you can judge for yourself," said he. He called the waiter. He scribbled on a piece of paper, "Photograph of Mlle. Girond as Capitaine Crepin in 'The Squire's Daughter.'" "Send round to some stationer's shop, will you, and get me that?"