“Seriously,” he said to his companion, “seriously, Nina, she has put me under a very great obligation and shown herself very magnanimous as well.  There is no doubt she was offended with me about something or other; and she had the generosity to put all that aside the moment she found I was embroiled in this stupid affair.  And, mind you, I’m very glad to be out of it.  It would have looked ridiculous in the papers; and everything gets into the papers nowadays.  Of course that young idiot had no right to go and tell her about the duel; but I suppose he wanted to figure as a hero in her eyes—­poor devil! he seems pretty bad about her.  Well, now that her intervention has got me out of this awkward scrape, how am I to show my gratitude to her? what do you say, Nina?”

But Nina had nothing to say.

“There’s one thing I can do for her,” he continued.  “You know how fond actors and actresses are of titled folks.  Well, Miss Burgoyne is going down to Henley Regatta with a lot of other professionals, and I am going too, with another party—­Lady Adela Cunyngham has got a house-boat there.  Very well, if I can find out where Miss Burgoyne is—­and I dare say she will be conspicuous enough, though she’s not very tall—­I will take Lord Rockminster to pay his respects to her and leave him with her; won’t that do!  They have already been introduced at the theatre; and if Rockminster doesn’t say much, I have no doubt she will chatter enough for both.  And Miss Burgoyne will be quite pleased to have a lord all to herself.”

“Leo,” said Nina, gently, “do you not think you yourself have too much liking for—­for that fine company?”

“Perhaps I have,” said he, with perfect good-humor.  “What then?  Are you going to lecture me, too?  Is Saul among the prophets?  Has Maurice Mangan been coaching you as well?”

“Ah, Leo,” said she, “I should wish to see you give it all up—­yes—­all the popularity—­and your fine company—­and that you go away back to Pandiani—­”

“Pandiani!” he exclaimed.  “Here’s romance, indeed!  You want us both to become students again, and to have the old days at Naples back again—­”

“No, no, no!” she said, shaking her head.  “It is the future I think of.  I wish to hear you in grand opera or in oratorio—­I wish to see you a great artist—­that is something noble, something ambitious, something to work for day and night.  Ah, Leo, when I hear Mr. Santley sing ’Why do the nations’—­when I see the thousands and thousands of people sitting entranced, then I say to myself, ’There is something grand and noble to speak to all these people—­to lift them above themselves, to give them this pure emotion, surely that is a great thing—­it is high, like religion—­it is a purification—­it is—­’” But here she stopped, with a little gesture of despair.  “No, no, Leo, I cannot tell you—­I have not enough English.”

“It’s all very well,” said he, “for you to talk about Santley; but where will you get another voice like his?”