"Their marriage," I explained. "I thought possibly the Archbishop
cousin might-- Surely," I interrupted myself, puzzled in turn by
her expression, "you told me that when her voice failed your mistress
had promised to marry the Marchese?"
"Ah!" Annette gave a nod of comprehension. "That, no; it is a
misunderstanding. What, in such case, would monsieur do with the
wife he already has, the mother of the young noblemen? And Madame
Gina, too--can you conceive that one of her rich nature should
content herself all these years with combing the tresses of Saint
Catherine?" She laughed a little, pleasantly. "Eh, no, it was not
of marriage that I spoke," she said with a tender sigh, "but of love.
Assuredly the poor Marchese deserves at last his happiness.... Yet
at what cost to the world, what cost! The voice of Gina, that voice
of velvet edged with little silver bells, never to be heard again,
never again! Unless," she added pensively as she hurried away, "upon
the concert stage of America, perhaps--who knows?"
CLASSICS IN SLANG:
ROBINSON CRUSOE
_By_ H. C. Witwer