But the hour was over, and the queen had lost the inclination to play. Gluck waited for the sign of his dismissal; and the Princess Elizabeth begged that he would entertain them with something new from his Iphigenia. The master of sixty-five seated himself at the instrument and began the frenzy scene of Orestes. All were silent and attentive, particularly Louis, who, when the piece was ended, went up to Gluck, and said, with downcast eyes, in broken sentences—“Excellent, chevalier—most excellent! I am charmed—delighted; I will have your opera produced first—with all care—with all splendor—just as you please! and I hope the success will be such as to gratify you.”
The Chevalier Noverre and the Signor Piccini were here announced and admitted. They came in together. Noverre started when he saw Gluck, and it was evident that he was embarrassed at his presence, though his pride prevented him from betraying such a feeling more than an instant. Piccini was easy and unembarrassed; and when the king commanded him to salute his adversary, he did so with dignity and cordiality. Gluck returned the greeting in like manner.
“What do you bring us new, gentlemen?” asked Antoinette. Noverre answered, with solemn gravity, “Your Majesty was pleased to grant Signor Piccini permission to play you his last notes out of the opera of Iphigenia in Tauris.”
“Very well!” replied the queen; and turning to Piccini, she asked, graciously, “What selection have you made, Signor?”
Piccini bowed and replied—“The Chevalier Noverre wished that your Majesty would permit me to play before you the Scythian dance, number one.”
The Comte d’Artois burst into a peal of laughter; and even the other aristocratic personages, except the king, who shared the embarrassment of Piccini and Noverre, had some difficulty in restraining their mirth.
“You have my ready permission,” said Antoinette. Piccini seated himself at the piano, and began to play his Scythian dance, to which the Comte of Provence and Noverre kept time. The others confessed that Piccini’s dance was far more pleasing, melodious, and adapted to the grace of motion, than that of Gluck. But D’Artois whispered to the king, that he thought the dance, considered by itself, admirable; but beyond dispute, better fitted for a masqued ball, in the salon of the grand opera, than for a private abode in Tauris.
Louis did not reply; Gluck stood listening earnestly and attentively; his sense of the merit of his opponent was visible in his countenance, except that now and then a light curl played about his mouth, when Piccini indulged too much in his pretty quaverings and tinklings. Noverre responded with his foot, by a natural impulse, to the music.
Great applause rewarded Piccini when he ceased; and Noverre neglected not to explain, with an air of great importance, that in the music they had just heard, was displayed that inspiriting rhythmus, which alone had power to charm the dancer’s feet, so that he could give soul and expression to his pirouettes and entrechats.
“Very good, Monsieur Noverre,” said the king, interrupting the current of the dancing master’s speech; “I agree with you that the music of Signor Piccini is admirable, but I hope also, that you will make yourself acquainted with the music of the Chevalier Gluck.”