“My niece,” replied the general, “all this is very beautiful and very Christianlike; but do not destroy the appearances which permit the suspicion. In this world it is not sufficient to be at the shelter of the critic; we must still be careful of propriety. For this same reason, as you are young and handsome, you will do well not to take in hand the defence in certain causes.”
“I have not the ambitious pretension to pass myself off as perfect,” replied the countess, “nor to establish in my house a tribunal of justice; but what I desire, is to be a loyal and sincere friend, when I defend and make respected those who honor me with their friendship.”
Raphael and Arias entered at this moment.
“Ah, Raphael,” she said to him, “do you still mock this fair enchantress?”
“My cousin, to please you, I am brilliant with enthusiasm, in imitation of the public. I have been a witness to the imperial ovation awarded to this eighth wonder.”
“Relate it to us,” said the countess; “relate it to us.”
“When the curtain fell, I thought for an instant that we were going to witness a second edition of the Tower of Babel. Ten times they encored the diva; and they would have encored it twenty times, if the insolent and irreverent lustres of the opera house, fatigued by the length of their services, had not begun to sparkle and go out. The friends of the duke were eager to go and congratulate the heroine; we all precipitated ourselves at her feet—and we prostrated ourselves, our faces to the earth.”
“You also, Raphael?” asked the general. “I thought you had more sense under your apparent giddiness.”
“If I had not been where all the others went, I would not now have had the pleasure to paint to you the reception which we gave to this Queen of Molucca, this Empress of Bernol. (A flat, in music.) To begin: she arranged all her answers in a species of chromatic scale, according to her usage, and which again close the following demi-tones: to begin, the calm, which is called also indifference; then the supineness; and, to finish, the disdain. I was the first to offer her the tribute of my homage. I showed to her my hands, bruised with applauding, and swore to her that the slight sacrifice of the surface of the skin was well due to her incomparable talent—happy rival of that of the illustrious Madureira. She replied only by a superb inclination of the head worthy of the goddess Juno. The baron entreated her to come to Paris, the only city where bravos are of any value, because the Paris success resounds throughout the universe. And Maria replied coldly: ‘You see that it is not necessary that I go to Paris to be applauded: bravos for bravos, I like better those of my country than those of France.’ ”
“She said that?” demanded the general. “There is much good sense in this woman.”