ll young man, who was sitting alone not far off, cast a glance of
contempt at him, and then, as if vexed at having bestowed upon him even
this slight attention, leaned forward, listening with eagerness to the
soprano voice. The little dark woman observed him carefully above the
scarlet feathers of her fan, which she now held quite still. His face
was lean and brown. His eyes were long and black, heavy-lidded, and
shaded by big lashes which curled upward. His features were good. The
nose and chin were short and decided, but the mouth was melancholy,
almost weak. On his upper lip grew a short moustache, turned up at the
ends. His body was slim and muscular.

After watching him for a little while the dark woman looked again at the
elderly man beside her, and then quickly back to the young fellow. She
seemed to be comparing the two attentions, of age and of youth. Perhaps
she found something horrible in the process for she suddenly lost her
expression of sparkling and birdlike sarcasm, and bending her arm, as if
overcome with lassitude, she let her fan drop on her knees, and stared
moodily at the carpet.

A very tall woman, with snow-white hair and a face in which nobility and
weariness were mated, let fall two tears, and a huge man, with short,
bronze-coloured hair and a protruding lower jaw, who was sitting
opposite to her, noticed them and suddenly looked proud.

The light soprano voice went on singing an Italian song about a summer
night in Venice, about stars, dark waters and dark palaces, heat, and
the sound of music, and of gondoliers calling over the lagoons to their
comrades. It was an exquisite voice; not large, but flexible and very
warm. The pianoforte accompaniment was rather uneasy and faltering. Now
and then, when it became blurred and wavering, the voice was abruptly
hard and decisive, once even piercing and almost shrewish. Then the
pianist, as if attacked by fear, played louder and hurried the tempo,
the little dark woman smiled mischievously, the white-haired woman put
her handkerchief to her eyes, and the young man looked as if he wished
to commit murder. But the huge man with the bronze hair went on looking
equably proud.

When the voice died away there was distinct, though slight, applause,
which partially drowned the accompanist's muddled conclusion. Then a
woman walked in from the second drawing-room with an angry expression on
her face.

She was tall and slight. Her hair and eyes were light yel