She sang Beethoven's "Per piet non dirmi addio" with a subdued but searching pathos which had that essential of perfect singing, the making one oblivious of art or manner, and only possessing one with the song. It was the sort of voice that gives the impression of being meant like a bird's wooing for an audience near and beloved. Deronda began by looking at her, but felt himself presently covering his eyes with his hand, wanting to seclude the melody in darkness; then he refrained from what might seem oddity, and was ready to meet the look of mute appeal which she turned toward him at the end.
"I think I never enjoyed a song more than that," he said, gratefully.

She sang Beethoven's "Per piet non dirmi addio," with a subdued but searching pathos which, like all perfect singing, made one oblivious of art or manner, and only possessed one with the song. Deronda began by looking at her, but felt himself presently covering his eyes with his hand, wanting to seclude the melody in darkness; but he was ready to meet the look of appeal which she turned toward him at the end.
"I think I never enjoyed a song more than that," he said gratefully.
