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'I am sure I should be kind to them, said Sidonia, 'for many reasons, and particularly for one; and he whispered something in Baroni's ear. Baroni started from his seat with a glowing cheek, but Sidonia, looking at his watch and promising to attend their evening performance, bade them adieu.
Be-r-r-rump . . . be-r-r-rump . . . be-r-r-rump . . . br-r-rum! Do not, please, sing as an elephant walks." Diana coloured and tried again, but without marked success. She was genuinely out of practice, and the nervousness with which Baroni's obvious ill-humour inspired her did not mend matters.
Her lip curled. "I should have thought they were obvious. Our marriage has been a mistake. It's a failure. And I can't bear this life any longer. . . . I must have something to do." Carlo Baroni's joy knew no bounds when he understood that Diana had definitely decided to return to the concert platform.
Diana was sitting in Baroni's music-room, waiting, with more or less patience, for a singing lesson. The old maestro was in an unmistakable ill-humour this morning, and he had detained the pupil whose lesson preceded her own far beyond the allotted time, storming at the unfortunate young man until Diana marvelled that the latter had sufficient nerve to continue singing at all.
Just as the fish was being removed, the door opened to admit a tall, thin woman, wearing outdoor costume, who passed quickly down the room and took the vacant place at the table, murmuring a curt apology to Mrs. Lawrence on her way. To Diana's astonishment she recognised in the newcomer Olga Lermontof, Baroni's accompanist. "Miss Lermontof!" she exclaimed. "I had no idea that you lived here."
Always to be a tool and never live an individual man's life of my own?" Baroni's face softened a little. "One cannot escape one's destiny," he said sadly. "Che sar
From Baroni's point of view, the happenings of life were chiefly of importance in so far as they tended towards the perfecting of the artiste. "Love is good," he had said on one occasion. "No one can interpret romantic music who has not loved. And a broken heart in the past, and plenty of good food in the present these may very well make a great artiste.
Possible headlines from the morrow's newspapers danced before his eyes: "NERVOUS COLLAPSE OF MISS DIANA QUENTIN," "SIGNOR BARONI'S NEW PRIMA DONNA FAILS TO MATERIALISE." "Diavolo!" he exclaimed distractedly. "But what shall we do? What shall we do?" "What is the matter?"
Baroni's keen old eyes read the conflict of emotions in her face, and he laid his finger unerringly upon the sore spot. His one idea was to prevent Diana from marrying, to guard her as he mentally phrased it for the art he loved so well, and he was prepared to stick at nothing that might aid his cause. "So he has not told you?" he said slowly. "Do you not think it strange of him?"
Diana had speedily carved for herself a niche of her own in the Rectory household, so that when the exigencies of her musical training, as viewed through Carlo Baroni's eyes, had necessitated her departure from Crailing for a whole year, Stair and his daughter had felt her absence keenly, and they welcomed her back with open arms.
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