ble smile which professionals keep especially for amateurs, and as a
matter of politeness he listened attentively, till he had convinced
himself that the song, as he had expected, belonged to that large class
of which the chief characteristic is a general resemblance to everything
of the kind that was ever written before, and will ever be written
hereafter. This being settled after hearing a few bars, Stradella
quietly gave himself up to the pleasure of looking at the young girl,
though he often turned towards the Senator, who expected admiration at
every full close, and meant to get it.

He thought he did; for the effect of watching Ortensia was to bring to
the musician's own face an expression of such genuine delight that
Pignaver could not fail to be pleased, since he attributed it to the
charm of his composition. He was in the seventh heaven. Here, at last,
was a true genius, able to appreciate his talent as it deserved. Here
was a master fit to teach such noble music, as it should really be sung.
Ortensia should profit by the opportunity, even if Stradella asked a
silver ducat for each lesson. For once, money was no object to the
Senator. The triumph his young bride would certainly bring him, in
singing his songs after being taught by Alessandro Stradella, would be
worth much more than gold.

She sang the stuff as creditably as it deserved, her voice was fresh and
true, and her touch on the lute was at once light and sure. With such a
face, what did it matter that the song was exactly like a thousand
others? The musician praised it so enthusiastically that the Senator was
almost satisfied for once.

'You flatter me,' he said, bowing a little in his chair, spreading out
his hands in a gesture of deprecation and grinning like a pleased
monkey.

'Not in the least, my lord, I assure you,' answered Stradella with great
emphasis. 'If I were capable of flattering you, I should not deserve the
confidence you place in me, in desiring me to give this gifted young
lady a few lessons.'

Ortensia pretended to be busy with her lute, bending over it and softly
trying the upper strings, though they were already perfectly in tune.
But she was listening to the young master, and she thought she had
rarely heard a voice that had more winning tones in speaking, or an
accent that pleased her better. And as she bent down she could just see
his well-turned ankles and purple leather shoes.

'It would be my wish,' the Senator said, '