The too-forceful baritone stood abashed, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. With a swift motion Baroni swept up the music from the piano and shovelled it pell-mell into the young man's arms. "Oh, go away, go away!" he said impatiently. "You are a voice--just a voice--and nothing more. You will _nevaire_ be an artist!" And he turned his back on him. Very dejectedly the young man made his way towards the door, whilst Diana, overcome with sympathy and horror at his abrupt dismissal, could hardly refrain from rushing forward to intercede for him. And then, to her intense amazement, Baroni whisked suddenly round, and following the young man to the door, laid his hand on his shoulder. "_Au revoir, mon brave_," he said, with the utmost bonhomie. "Bring the song next time and we will go through it again. But do not be discouraged--no, for there is no need. It will come--it will come. But remember, _piano--piano--pianissimo_!" And with a reassuring pat on the shoulder he pushed the young man affectionately through the doorway and closed the door behind him. So he had not been dismissed in disgrace after all! Diana breathed a sigh of relief, and, looking up, found Signor Baroni regarding her with a large and benevolent smile. "You theenk I was too severe with him?" he said placidly. "But no. He is like iron, that young man; he wants hammer-blows." "I think he got them," replied Diana crisply, and then stopped, aghast at her own temerity. She glanced anxiously at Baroni to see if he had resented her remark, only to find him surveying her with a radiant smile and looking exactly like a large, pleased child. "We shall get on, the one with the other," he observed contentedly. "Yes, we shall get on. And now--who are you? I do not remember names"--with a terrific roll of his R's--"but you haf a very pree-ty face--and I never forget a pree-ty face." "I'm--I'm Diana Quentin," she blurted out, nervousness once more overpowering her as she realised that the moment of her ordeal was approaching. "I've come to have my voice tried." Baroni picked up a memorandum book from his table, turning over the pages till he came to her name. "Ach! I remember now. Miss Waghorne--my old pupil sent you. She has been teaching you, isn't it so?" Diana nodded. "Yes, I've had a few lessons from her, and she hoped that possibly you would take me as a pupil." It was out at last--the proposal which now, in the actual presence of the great man himself, seemed nothing less than a piece of stupendous presumption.