the next day saw me calling on the donna marchesi. i took her flowers that time, a corsage of vivid purple and scarlet orchids. she entertained me in her music room and i, taking the hint, asked her to sing. shyly, almost with reluctance, she did as i asked. she sang the selection from the italian opera that i knew so well. i was generous in my applause.

she smiled.

"you like to hear me sing?"

"indeed! i want to hear you again. i could hear you daily without growing tired."

"you're nice," she purred. "perhaps it could be arranged."

"you are too modest. you have a wonderful voice. why not give it to the world?"

"i sang once in public," she sighed. "it was in new york, at a private musical. there were many men there. perhaps it was stage fright; my voice broke badly, and the audience, especially the men, were not kind. i am not sure, but i thought that i heard some of them hiss me."

"surely not!" i protested.

"indeed, so. but no man has hissed my singing since then."

"i hope not!" i replied indignantly. "you have a wonderful voice, and, when i applauded you, i was sincere. by the way, may i change my mind and ask for the key to the door in the cellar?"

"do you want it, really want it, my friend?"

"i am sure i do. i may never use it, but it will please me to have it. little things in life make me happy, and this key is a little thing."

"then you shall have it. will you do me a favor? wait till sunday to use it. today is friday, and you will not have to wait many hours."

"it will be a pleasure to do as you desire," i replied, kissing her hand. "and shall i hear you sing again? may i come often to hear you sing?"

"i promise you that," she sighed. "i am sure that you will hear me sing often in the future. i feel that in some way our fates approach the same star."

i looked into her eyes, her yellow cat-eyes, and i was sure that she spoke the truth. destiny had certainly brought me to find her in sorona.