But perhaps I'd have been better behaved before him.

I'm treating you with all the freedom of an old friend of my cousin's.' Nina had meanwhile opened the piano, and was letting her hands stray over the instrument in occasional chords; and then in a low voice, that barely blended its tones with the accompaniment, she sang one of those little popular songs of Italy, called 'Stornelli'-- -wild, fanciful melodies, with that blended gaiety and sadness which the songs of a people are so often marked by.
'That is a very old favourite of mine,' said Walpole, approaching the piano as noiselessly as though he feared to disturb the singer; and now he stole into a chair at her side.

'How that song makes me wish we were back again, where I heard it first,' whispered he gently.
'I forget where that was,' said she carelessly.
'No, Nina, you do not,' said he eagerly; 'it was at Albano, the day we all went to Pallavicini's villa.' 'And I sang a little French song, "_Si vous n'avez rien a me dire_," which you were vain enough to imagine was a question addressed to yourself; and you made me a sort of declaration; do you remember all that ?' 'Every word of it.' 'Why don't you go and speak to my cousin; she has opened the window and gone out upon the terrace, and I trust you understand that she expects you to follow her.' There was a studied calm in the way she spoke that showed she was exerting considerable self-control.
'No, no, Nina, it is with you I desire to speak; to see you that I have come here.' 'And so you do remember that you made me a declaration?
It made me laugh afterwards as I thought it over.' 'Made you laugh!' 'Yes, I laughed to myself at the ingenious way in which you conveyed to me what an imprudence it was in you to fall in love with a girl who had no fortune, and the shock it would give your friends when they should hear she was a Greek.' 'How can you say such painful things, Nina?
how can you be so pitiless as this ?' 'It was you who had no pity, sir; I felt a deal of pity; I will not deny it was for myself.

I don't pretend to say that I could give a correct version of the way in which you conveyed to me the pain it gave you that I was not a princess, a Borromeo, or a Colonna, or an Altieri.

That Greek adventurer, yes--you cannot deny it, I overheard these words myself.