"It's a strange thing," added Don Mariano, "but of course it may be—it may be."
The young people returned to their places, and quickly forgot the incident, as they gayly took up the broken thread of conversation. Their elders continued their promenade, making interminable comments and endless hypotheses about the unexpected visitation. Maria still stayed obstinately at the window, shielded from the eyes of her friends by the great damask curtains.
A very heated discussion about music had been set on foot in the group of young people, among whom figured the sensitive Señorita de Delgado, in spite of the vehemently expressed protests of Rosarito, who declared on her word that the said señorita had often held her in her arms, and that, when she as a child was going to confession, and the Señorita de Delgado was at her house, she had kissed her hand, as an elderly person.[53] One of the most elegant of young men, who had been educated in Madrid for five different professions in succession, upheld the superiority of the German composers, declaring that there were no operas like Roberto, Les Huguenots, and Le Prophète, and that no symphonies could be compared with those of Beethoven and Mozart. The ladies, powerfully supported by the rest of the men, stood up for the advantages of Italian music.
"Don't nauseate us with your Germans, Severino! What kind of music do they make! It sounds to me like a pack of dogs barking."
"That is only at first; if you should continue to hear it, you would acquire the taste for it; the same thing happens with olives and ale."
"Then if one has to go through such wretched moments to get used to it, surely the thing isn't worth the trouble, you see! This does not happen with Italian music; you enjoy it from the very first."
"Of course, for the most part of Italian music is only a melody accompanied by four guitars."
"Silence, man, silence! Don't speak blasphemies. Would you think of comparing rubbish, which they themselves don't understand, with the sublime finale of Lucia, or with the soprano aria of La Favorita which begins, Oh mioooo—Ferna—a—a—an—do—riii—raaa—ri—ro—ra—riii—ira—"
"Ah, if you had heard the fourth act of Les Huguenots! What dramatic music! How expressive! It makes the hair stand on end! How magnificent this duet is: La—sciami—paar—tiiir—la—sciami—paar—tiiiir—riira—riri—riri—ra—rōōō—riri—ra—rōō—laaa—tō—rii—ro—ra—"
"But could you ever hear anything sweeter than the concerted piece in Somnambula beginning, Tōōō—ra—ri—rō—ra—rōōōō—laa—riii—rōō—raa—rōra—rōōō,—rii—ra—ri—rōō?"