Part 17 (1/2)
”Why,” I answered, ”of course she is young.”
And then, when I thought of it a moment, I remembered that no one had told me her age, but I added:
”I know she is young, because I have heard her sing.”
It was now my companion's turn to laugh, but although her merriment was at my expense its expression, like all her actions, was exceedingly pleasing. The thought occurred to me that even the most cultured of the earth's inhabitants have still much to learn in the realm of manners.
”Oh, do you imagine,” she asked, in the midst of her laughing, ”that you can tell one's age in Mars from the quality of the voice? Does this Avis of yours sing well?”
”Excellently well. Until I heard her I had supposed there was but one singer anywhere, in earth, sun, moon, or star, possessed of such a sweet and thrilling voice.”
”And where, if I may ask, did you find that one?”
”Oh, the doctor and I discovered her in our travels. I will tell you all about her when I have more time. Now will you excuse me while I continue my search for Avis?”
”You have forgotten,” she answered, ”what I told you. I am Avis.”
”Not my Avis, the singer.”
”Yes, the very same, and I can prove it.”
”How?”
She answered by turning half around, lifting her head, and sending out on the air one full, rich note. It poorly describes my emotions to say I was astonished. If I had been blind and dependent only on what I heard at that moment, I should have thrown myself at her feet and called her Mona. It brought back to me not only every expression of Mona's marvelous voice, but also every feature and every grace which had formerly so bewitched me. If I had loved her pa.s.sionately when we were together in the body, it would be difficult to characterize my feelings now that she was present only in memory. These sensations swept over me rapidly, but before I could utter a word my companion spoke again:
”I see you hesitate. Let me complete my proof by saying that you are visiting, with Zenith and Thorwald, at the house of Fronda, and have heard me sing two nights in succession.”
”Then,” I exclaimed, with sorrow and despair in my voice, ”I have indeed found Avis, but, alas! I have once more lost Mona.”
”How so?”
”Why, don't you see? I expected to find Mona and lose Avis. I thought Avis was Mona, a thought born partly of hope, I suppose, but it did not seem possible that there could be two such singers. So you are really Avis. I must try and remember that, and not express any more sorrow at not losing you. If Avis could not be Mona it is certainly a great consolation to find her in you. Let me return with you to Proctor's; and now, will you not sing for me as we walk?”
”Are you so fond of singing, or is it because you like to be reminded of Mona?”
”Both, I a.s.sure you.”
”Does my voice sound like hers in conversation?”
”Oh, no, Mona never talked as we do. Everything she wanted to say she sang.”
”You surprise me,” said Avis. ”I should think she would soon become tiresome to her friends.”
”If you had ever known her you would not make such a remark as that.”
”I beg your pardon,” she quickly returned. ”I presume you are right. And now, to atone for wounding your feelings, I will sing till we come in sight of Fronda's house.”
”I thank you very much, and I promise you I shall walk as slowly as possible.”
She sang some sweet little things for me as we sauntered along, attracting me powerfully and making it easier for me to conceal my great disappointment.