She was much struck by a conversation she had one day with Signor Corli, her singing-master. She had sung, to his intense delight and satisfaction, one of the most difficult and beautiful cavatinas from "Der Freischutz," and he marveled at her wonderful voice and execution.
"It is ten thousand pities," he said, "that you have a position which forbids you to think of the stage."
She laughed at the time.
"The stage?" she repeated. "Why, signor?"
"Because you have the genius which would make you the finest dramatic singer in the world," he replied; "you would be the very queen of song. I repeat it—it is ten thousand pities you have been placed in such a position the stage could never attract you."
"No, it certainly will not," she said. "But do you think I have really talent for it, signor?"
"No, not talent," he replied, "but genius. Once in every hundred years such a one is given to the world. If you went on the stage I venture to prophesy you would drive the world mad."
She laughed.
"It is just as well, then, that the world is saved from madness," she said.
"It is not well for the world of art," said Signor Corli.