“But I must begin,” said she, with much practical common-sense, “and while I am in the small part, I learn to act, I learn the stage-affair, I learn better English, to the end of having a place more important.  Why, Leo, you are too careful of me!  At Naples I work hard, I am a slave to old Pandiani—­I suffer everything—­can I not work hard here in London?  You think I am an infant?  Certainly I am not—­no, no—­I am old—­old—­”

“But light-hearted still, Nina,” he said, for she was clearly bent on laughing away his fears.  Then he looked at her, with a little hesitation.  “There’s another thing, Nina? about the costume.”

“Yes?” she asked, innocently.

“I don’t know—­whether you would quite like—­but I’ll show you Mlle. Girond’s dress anyway—­then you can judge for yourself,” said he.  He called the waiter.  He scribbled on a piece of paper, “Photograph of Mlle. Girond as Capitaine Crepin in ‘The Squire’s Daughter.’” “Send round to some stationer’s shop, will you, and get me that?”

When the messenger returned with the photograph, Lionel, rather timidly, put it before her; but, indeed, there was nothing in the costume of Mlle. Girond to startle any one—­the uniform of the boy-officer was so obviously a compromise.  Nina glanced at it thoughtfully.

“Well, Leo,” she said, looking up, “you see no harm?”

“Harm?” said he, boldly taking up his cue, “of course not!  It isn’t like any uniform that ever was known; I suppose it’s Mlle. Girond’s own invention; but, at all events, there’s nothing to prevent any modest girl wearing it.  Why, I know more than one fashionable lady who would think nothing of appearing as Rosalind—­and Rosalind’s is a real boy’s dress, or ought to be—­and then they haven’t the excuse that an actor or actress has, that it is a necessity of one’s profession.  However, there’s nothing to be said about that costume, anyway; I really had forgotten that Mlle. Girond had got her pretty little blue coat made with so long a skirt.  Besides, Nina, with a voice like yours, you will soon be beyond having to take parts like that.”

Indeed, she was so evidently anxious to obtain an engagement in the same theatre that he himself was engaged in that his vague reluctance ultimately vanished; and he began considering when he could bring her before Mr. Lehmann, the manager, and Mr. Carey, the musical conductor, so that they should hear her sing.  As to their verdict, as to what the manager would do, he had no doubt whatever.  She had a valuable voice, and her ignorance of stage requirements would speedily disappear.  At the very time that Lehmann was trying to get new under-studies with a view to the formation of a second travelling company, why, here was a perfect treasure discovered for him.  And Lionel made certain that, as soon as Antonia Rossi had had time to study Mlle. Girond’s “business,” and perhaps one or two chances of actually playing the part, she would be drafted into one or other of the travelling companies, and sent away through the provinces; so that any awkwardness arising from her being in the same theatre with himself, and he her only friend in England, to whom she would naturally appeal in any emergency, would thus be obviated.