“Pray,’” he said, “don’t be bashful. I like to sing, and I am so much hoping that you will accompany me.”
I did not wish to pour cold water on his enthusiasm. “I will do my best, sir,” I said.
He considerately chose a piece that was not too difficult, and I gave a reasonably good account of myself. The Count had a pleasing voice, a light baritone, and we did several songs together. He asked if I sang too. I blushed again, saying that I would not impose my vocal efforts on him. Then he asked me if I liked pictures. I replied, truthfully, that I enjoyed them greatly, but had not much experience of seeing anything good. From a bookshelf he fetched a number of large illustrated works, chiefly of Italian masters.
As we leafed through them, I saw that several of the pictures showed ladies, o
