The next day, a little after noon, Tamburini was conducted to the imperial presence. Surrounded by his court, by foreign nobles and visitors of distinction, the emperor entertained his illustrious guest, the Emperor of Russia, who sat at his right hand. There was silence throughout the courtly assembly when the artist was led in. He made a suitable obeisance when his name was announced, and stood with a respectful air to await the monarch’s commands.
“Signor Tamburini,” said the Emperor of Austria, “you stand before us a prisoner, and, we understand, plead ignorance as to the cause of your arrest.”
“I am, indeed, ignorant, sire,” replied the artist, “in what respect I have been so unfortunate as to transgress the laws or offend your majesty.”
“We will tell you, then,” said the emperor, gravely. “It was your treasonous design to pass through this noble city without stopping to perform at the opera house. Your plan was detected—you were taken in the very act of departure.”
“Your majesty——,” began the artist.
“Silence, sir; it is in vain to defend yourself. You are proved guilty not only of a conspiracy to defraud our good Venetians of their rights in refusing them the privilege of hearing you, but of lese majesté against ourself and our illustrious brother, the Emperor of Russia. You lie at our mercy; but you have many friends, and at their intercession we remit you other punishment than a few days’ imprisonment. Meanwhile, we have ordered a sum to be paid you, in testimony of our approval of your last night’s performance; and in addition, ask of us any favor you choose.”
“Sire, my gratitude—your gracious condescension——”
Tamburini’s voice faltered from emotion.
“Your boon, if you please!” cried the emperor, impatiently.
“Sire, it is simply this—permission to keep my word, pledged to my friends at Trieste, who are expecting me.”