“The thought of a young man going out in cold blood to serenade a young woman on a November night is too terrible. I only hope he does not travel with one of those wonderful silk rope ladders which play so important a part in the lyric stage.” “Goodness only knows,” said Clare, shaking her head despondently. “When there's a romantic man at large nobody can tell what may happen.” “Is it possible that you do not respond with the least feeling of tenderness to such devotion?” said Agnes. “Is it possible that you have the courage to run counter to the best established traditions in this affair? Think of your duty as a soprano.” “I thought that I had given him a sufficient answer long ago,” said Clare, frowning. “He has fancied himself in love with a score of the girls who sang duets with him. Girls, did I say? Why, I heard that he was continually at the feet of Madame Scherzo before he saw me, and the Scherzo has sons older than he is, and besides--well, she isn't any longer what you'd call slim.” “No, she wasn't even slim when I was a girl,” said Agnes. “But, my dear, you must remember that a tenor is a tenor.” “Somebody once said that a tenor was a malady,” said Clare. “I do wish that this particular complaint had remained in Milan. Heavens! Why should I be troubled with him just when I need to give all my thoughts to my work? He is sure to come back to-morrow, and this time he will ring the bell.” “You can scarcely refuse to see him,” said Agnes. “But are you really certain of yourself? Are you sure that you have no tender regard for him?” “I think I am pretty sure,” replied the girl. “I never was in the least moved by his sighs and his prayers--I was only moved to laughter--when he wasn't near, of course. If I had laughed when he was present he would have killed either me or himself.” “The only way by which a girl can be certain that she does not love one man is to be certain that she loves another,” said Agnes. “I wonder if Signor Rodani has a rival?” She glanced at Clare's face: it was blazing. The laugh she gave was a very uneasy one. Agnes became interested. Seeing these signs she rose from her chair, and went across the room to the girl, laying her hands on her shoulders, and looking searchingly down into her face. Clare, however, declined to meet her gaze. She only glanced up for a second. Then she turned to one side and laid a hand on the keys of the piano, pressing them down so gently as to produce no sound. Agnes laughed as she raised her hands from the girl's shoulders. “I am answered,” she said. “You have told me all that your heart has to tell. I will ask you nothing more. Oh, I wondered how it was possible for so sweet a girl as you to escape.” Clare sprang to her feet and threw her arms about the neck of her friend, hiding her roseate face on her shoulder.