"Friend Calabressa, you may save your breath," said the other, coldly. "The young lady might have had my friendship if she had chosen. She did not choose. I suppose she is old enough--and proud enough--to choose her own friends. Yes, yes, friend Calabressa, I have heard. But we will say nothing more: now listen to this comical fellow." Calabressa was not thinking of the young Englishman who now sat down at the piano; a strange suspicion was beginning to fill his mind. Was it possible, he began inwardly to ask, that Vincent Beratinsky had himself aspired to marry the beautiful Hungarian girl? This good-looking young English fellow, with a gravity equal to that of the sham showman, explained to his audience that he was composing an operetta, of which he would give them a few passages. He was a skilful pianist. He explained, as his fingers ran up and down the keys, that the scene was in Ratcliffe Highway. A tavern: a hornpipe. Jack ashore. Unseemly squabbles: here there were harsh discords and shrill screams. Drunkenness: the music getting very helpless. Then the daylight comes--the chirping of sparrows--Jack wanders out--the breath of the morning stirs his memories--he thinks of other days. Then comes in Jack's song, which neither Calabressa nor any one else present could say was meant to be comic, or pathetic, or a demoniac mixture of both. The accompaniment which the handsome young English fellow played was at once rhythmical, and low and sad, like the wash of waves: "Oh, the days were long, And the summers were long, When Jane and I went courtin'; The hills were blue beyond the sky; The heather was soft where we did lie; We kissed our fill, did Jane and I, When Jane and I went courtin'. "When Jane and I went courtin', Oh, the days were long, And the summers were long! We walked by night beyond the quay; Above, the stars; below, the sea; And I kissed Jane, and Jane kissed me, When Jane and I went courtin'. "But Jane she married the sodger-chap; An end to me and my courtin'. And I took ship, and here I am; And where I go, I care not a damn-- Rio, Jamaica, Seringapatam-- Good-bye to Jane and the courtin'." This second professor of gravity was abundantly cheered too when he rose from the piano; for the music was quaint and original with a sort of unholy, grotesque pathos running through it. Calabressa resumed: "My good Beratinsky, what is it that you have heard?" "No matter. Natalie Lind has no need of your good offices, Calabressa. She can make friends for herself, and quickly enough, too." Calabressa's eyes were not keen, but his ears were; he detected easily the personal rancor in the man's tone. "You are speaking of some one: the Englishman?" Beratinsky burst out laughing.