We must lead
up to his seeing you. I wonder whether your playing those Neapolitan
airs may not have left some impression on his brain?--they might sound
familiar?"
At once Nina went to the piano and silently opened it.
"I will go and talk to him," he whispered. "Just you play a little, and
we'll see."
Mangan went into the next room and began to say a few casual words, in a
careless kind of way, but all the time keeping watchful and furtive
observation of his friend's face. And even as he spoke there came
another sound--soft and low and distant--that seemed to say, "_A la
fenesta affaciate_--_nennela de stu core_--_io t'aggio addo che spasemi,
ma spasemo d'amore_--_e cchiu non trovo requia, nennella mia, ppe
te!_--"
"Maurice!" said Lionel, with staring eyes. "What is that? Who is there?"
"Don't you know, Linn?" his friend said, tranquilly. "She has been here
all through your illness--she has played those airs for you--"
"Nina? Nina herself?" Lionel exclaimed, but in a low voice.
"Yes. If you like I will bring her in to see you. She has been awfully
good. I thought it would please you to know she was here. Now be quite
quiet, and she will come in and speak to you for a minute--for just a
minute, you know.
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