San Miniato did not answer the remark, for he distrusted her and fancied
she might have a retort ready. Her tongue was often sharper than he
liked, though he was not sensitive on the whole.
"Will you sing something to me?" he asked, as she struck the last chords
of the waltz.
"Oh yes," she replied with an alacrity that surprised him, "I feel
rather inclined to sing. Mamma," she cried, as the Marchesa entered the
room, "I am going to sing to my betrothed. Is it not touching?"
"It is very good of you," said San Miniato.
The Marchesa smiled and sank into a chair. Beatrice struck a few chords
and then, looking at the Count with half closed eyes, began to sing the
pathetic little song of Chiquita.
"On dit que l'on te marie
Tu sais que j'en vais mourir--"
Her voice was very sweet and true and there was real pathos in the words
as she sang them. But as she went on, San Miniato noticed first that she
repeated the second line, and then that she sang all the remaining
melody to it, singing it over and over again with an amazing variety of
expression, angrily, laughingly, ironically and sadly.
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