The Splendid Folly | Page 3

spell-bound.
If this were the only sort of voice Baroni condescended to train, what
chance had she? And the young man's singing seemed so finished, the
fervour of his passion was so vehemently rendered, that she humbly
wondered that there still remained anything for him to learn. It was
almost like listening to a professional.
Quite suddenly Baroni dropped his hands from the piano and surveyed
the singer with such an eloquent mixture of disgust and bitter contempt
in his extraordinarily expressive eyes that Diana positively jumped.
"Ach! So that is your idea of a humble suitor, is it?" he said, and though
he never raised his voice above the rather husky, whispering tones that
seemed habitual to him, it cut like a lash. Later, Diana was to learn that
Baroni's most scathing criticisms and most furious reproofs were
always delivered in a low, half-whispering tone that fairly seared the
victim. "That is your idea, then--to shout, and yell, and bellow your
love like a caged bull? When will you learn that music is not noise, and
that love--love"--and the odd, husky voice thrilled suddenly to a note as
soft and tender as the cooing of a wood-pigeon--"can be expressed

_piano_--ah, but _pianissimo_--as well as by blowing great blasts of
sound from those leathern bellows which you call your lungs?"
The too-forceful baritone stood abashed, shifting uneasily from one
foot to the other. With a swift motion Baroni swept up the music from
the piano and shovelled it pell-mell into the young man's arms.
"Oh, go away, go away!" he said impatiently. "You are a voice--just a
voice--and nothing more. You will nevaire be an artist!" And he turned
his back on him.
Very dejectedly the young man made his way towards the door, whilst
Diana, overcome with sympathy and horror at his abrupt dismissal,
could hardly refrain from rushing forward to intercede for him.
And then, to her intense amazement, Baroni whisked suddenly round,
and following the young man to the door, laid his hand on his shoulder.
"_Au revoir, mon brave_," he said, with the utmost bonhomie. "Bring
the song next time and we will go through it again. But do not be
discouraged--no, for there is no need. It will come--it will come. But
remember, _piano--piano--pianissimo_!"
And with a reassuring pat on the shoulder he pushed the young man
affectionately through the doorway and closed the door behind him.
So he had not been dismissed in disgrace after all! Diana breathed a
sigh of relief, and, looking up, found Signor Baroni regarding her with
a large and benevolent smile.
"You theenk I was too severe with him?" he said placidly. "But no. He
is like iron, that young man; he wants hammer-blows."
"I think he got them," replied Diana crisply, and then stopped, aghast at
her own temerity. She glanced anxiously at Baroni to see if he had
resented her remark, only to find him surveying her with a radiant
smile and looking exactly like a large, pleased child.

"We shall get on, the one with the other," he observed contentedly.
"Yes, we shall get on. And now--who are you? I do not remember
names"--with a terrific roll of his R's--"but you haf a very pree-ty
face--and I never forget a pree-ty face."
"I'm--I'm Diana Quentin," she blurted out, nervousness once more
overpowering her as she realised that the moment of her ordeal was
approaching. "I've come to have my voice tried."
Baroni picked up a memorandum book from his table, turning over the
pages till he came to her name.
"Ach! I remember now. Miss Waghorne--my old pupil sent you. She
has been teaching you, isn't it so?"
Diana nodded.
"Yes, I've had a few lessons from her, and she hoped that possibly you
would take me as a pupil."
It was out at last--the proposal which now, in the actual presence of the
great man himself, seemed nothing less than a piece of stupendous
presumption.
Signor Baroni's eyes roamed inquiringly over the face and figure of the
girl before him--quite possibly querying as to whether or no she
possessed the requisite physique for a singer. Nevertheless, the great
master was by no means proof against the argument of a pretty face.
There was a story told of him that, on one occasion, a girl with an
exceptionally fine voice had been brought to him, some wealthy
patroness having promised to defray the expenses of her training if
Baroni would accept her as a pupil. Unfortunately, the girl was
distinctly plain, with a quite uninteresting plainness of the pasty, podgy
description, and after he had heard her sing, the maestro, first
dismissing her from the room, had turned to the lady who was prepared
to stand sponsor for her, and had said, with an inimitable shrug of his