The Maestro had a very comfortable suite of apartments in Milan overlooking the Via Carlo Alberto, near the Piazza del Duomo, which were chosen by him on account of their situation, as he could sit at the window of his bedroom and amuse himself by gazing at the crowded street. This watching of the populace was his great delight, and when not giving a lesson he was generally stationed at his window, or else employed in reading Il Seccolo, which he did in a curious fashion, by holding it close to his best-seeing eye.
Of course, like all the entrances to these Milanese flats, the stairs were singularly damp, dark, and malodorous, and after running the gauntlet of a fat portanaia, who was devouring a large dish of polenta in her glass house, we climbed up the humid steps, and speedily arrived at the second storey, where dwelt the Maestro when in Milan. To make up for the filth under our feet the ceilings over our heads were gorgeously painted with mythological figures; and even at that moment I could not help recalling George Sands' remark anent the contrast between these two. However, we had no time to admire the clumsy Jupiter throwing fire-brand thunderbolts, for at this moment Petronella, who had seen us through the dingy glass of her own little sanctum, opened the door, and was about to burst into a torrent of greetings, when I stopped her to ask if the Signora Pallanza was at home.
"Yes! yes! the Signora is in, but she is engaged-- engaged in talking with a lady--Dio! a great lady!
"Great heavens! we may be too late!" I muttered to Beltrami, who nodded his head silently. "Petronella, speak low. This gentleman and myself came on an important errand to the Signora. What is the lady's name?"
"Signor, she said she was the Marchesa Beltrami," replied Petronella, her jolly face growing rather grave at all this mystery.
"Is Signor Pallanza in?"
"No, Signor Hugo; he has gone to see an impresario."
"She is alone with Madame, let us go in at once," whispered Beltrami, exhibiting the first signs of alarm I had ever beheld in him.
"One moment! What about the Maestro, Petronella?"
"In his bedroom, Signor Hugo, at the window. Holy Saints! what is wrong?"