A great depression had been lifted from her shoulders. She found herself in the midst of girls who had all something to do in the world. They got up in the morning and came tearing down to breakfast and made off to various definite occupations, as though they had nineteen parties in one day to attend. Some were studying, others "arrived" and working, only a few playing. Yet even the last had some excuse in the way of a problematical career in front of them. Here one saw where the desire to be something has quite as hygienic an effect on one, as the faculty of attainment. Mabel had not been three days in the house till she was as feverish as any to be getting on. Going with Jean for her first lesson finished her. Jean was still of the opinion that she was an invalid, and she certainly was overwrought and nervous. She would have backed out of her lesson, except that Mabel accompanied her. They found a magnificent man, well groomed and of fierce but courtly manners. He shook hands with the air of an arch-duke. "And which is the fortunate mademoiselle?" he asked. "Not that I prefer ’fortunate’ because that she happens to be about to be taught by myself, but she has a voice? Hn?" It was a sound that had only the effect of asking a question, but how efficiently! He glared at Mabel, who produced Jean, as it were, by a motion of the hand. "It is my sister who wants lessons," she said. This sounded like something out of a grammar book, and both girls saw the humour of it. But timidly, because Herr Slavska then invited them to sit, while he turned to the piano. He threw some music aside from the desk and cleared a place at the side for his elbow, as he sat down for a moment. "They do not all have voices! No. But som, they have the sōll. You have the sōll? Hn?" It did not seem necessary to inform Herr Slavska. He was walking up and down now, flinging out more sentences before they had time to answer the last. "For myself. I had the voice and I had the sōll. That is why I ask ’and who is the mademoiselle who is so fortunate?’ I am a voice, and look at me! I am a drudge to the great public. I gif lessons to stupids who do not love music. For what! For money to keep the stomach alive! Yes, that is it. And yet I say--which is the mademoiselle which is fortunate? For vit a voice and vit the sōll, and vit the art which I shall gif her, what does it matter about the stupid public? or the stomach?" Herr Slavska waited for no answers. "For years I was wrong. I had no art. None. I sang to the stupids and they applauded. At last I make great discovery, I find the art. Now I sing to the few." Herr Slavska paused for a moment. "My sister has had no training at all, except as a pianist," said Mabel. "Hn? Then I haf her, a flower, a bud unplucked!" Herr Slavska grew excited. "No nasty finger mark, no petal fallen. Ah! it is luck, it is luck for mademoiselle. Come, mademoiselle." He struck a note. "Will you sing ze!"