ving said in a low voice, "But you are an artist also, _un
confrere_," added still lower, "_Venez_!" and made a sign with her
head in the direction of the piano. This single word, "_Venez_!" so
abruptly spoken, utterly changed Panshine's appearance, as if by
magic, in a single moment. His care-worn air disappeared, he began to
smile, he became animated, he unbuttoned his coat, and, saying "I am
an artist! Not at all; but you, I hear, are an artist indeed," he
followed Varvara Pavlovna to the piano.

"Tell him to sing the romance, 'How the moon floats,'" exclaimed Maria
Dmitrievna.

"You sing?" asked Varvara Pavlovna, looking at him with a bright and
rapid glance. "Sit down there."

Panshine began to excuse himself.

"Sit down," she repeated, tapping the back of the chair in a
determined manner.

He sat down, coughed, pulled up his shirt-collar, and sang his
romance.

"_Charmant_," said Varvara Pavlovna. "You sing admirably--_vous avez
du style_. Sing it again."

She went round to the other side of the piano, and placed herself
exactly opposite Panshine. He repeated his romance, giving a
melodramatic variation to his voice. Varvara looked at him steadily,
resting her elbows on the piano, with her white hands on a level with
her lips. The song ended, "_Charmant! Charmante idee_," she said, with
the quiet confidence of a connoisseur. "Tell me, have you written
anything for a woman's voice--a mezzo-soprano?"

"I scarcely write anything," answered Panshine. "I do so only now and
then--between business hours. But do you sing?"

"Oh yes! do sing us something," said Maria Dmitrievna.

Varvara Pavlovna tossed her head, and pushed her hair back from her
flushed cheeks. Then, addressing Panshine, she said--

"Our voices ought to go well together. Let us sing a duet. Do you know
'_Son geloso_,' or '_La ci darem_,' or '_Mira la bianca luna_?'"

"I used to sing '_Mira la bianca luna_,'" answered Panshine; but it
was a long time ago. I have forgotten it now."

"Never mind, we will hum it over first by way of experiment. Let me
come there."

Varvara Pavlovna sat down to the piano. Panshine stood by her side.
They hummed over the duet, Varvara Pavlovna correcting him several
times; then they sang it out loud, and afterwards repeated it
twice--"_Mira la bianca lu-u-una_." Varvara's voice had lost its
freshness, but she managed it with great skill. At first Panshine
was nervous, and sang rather false, but afterwards he