"I scarcely know how to greet a Duke, for such I hear you are become,"
said Desire with a profound curtsy and a bewitching tone of badinage.
Entirely taken aback, he murmured something inarticulate, about her
piano.
"Would your grace like to have me play a little?" she asked, gaily.
He intimated that he would, and she at once sat down before the little
instrument. It was scarcely more to be compared with the magnificent
machines of our day than the flageolets of Virgil's shepherds with the
cornet-a-piston of the modern star performer, but Mozart, Haydn,
Handel, or Beethoven never lived to see a better. It was only about
two feet across by four and a half in width, with a small square
sounding board at the end. The almost threadlike wires, strung on a
wooden frame, gave forth a thin and tinny sound which would
instantaneously bring the hands of a modern audience to its ears. But
to Perez it seemed divine, and when, too, Desire opened her mouth and
sang, tears of genuine emotion filled his eyes. She was more richly
dressed than he had ever seen her before, wearing a cherry colored
silk bodice, low necked, and with bell mouthed sleeves reaching to her
elbows only, while the rounded white arms were set off with coral
bracelets, a necklace of the same material encircling her throat.
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