“We shall all go in together,” said Mrs. Burney, with a sign to Fanny.
But Rauzzini contrived to evade her eye by renewing his admiration of the “St. Cecilia.”
“If I could but reproduce in song the effect that flows from her face I should be the greatest singer in the world,” said he.
“You need not envy her,” said Fanny. “Do you remember Mr. Handel’s setting of ‘Alexander’s Feast’?”
“Only an aria or two.”
“One of the lines came into my mind just now when I looked at that picture. ‘She drew an angel down.’”
“And it was very apt. She would draw an angel down.”
“Yes; but the poet has another line before that one—it refers to a singer—‘He raised a mortal to the skies.’ That was the line which came to my mind when I heard you sing. You raise mortals to the skies. Your power is equal to that of St. Cecilia.”
“Nay, nay; that is what you have done. I have been uplifted to the highest heaven by you. When you are near me I cannot see anything of the world. Why have we not met more frequently? Ah, I forgot—I am always forgetting that the months you spoke of have not yet run out. But I am not impatient, knowing that the prize will come to me in good time. I have been away at the Bath and Salisbury and Bristol and I know not where, singing, singing, singing, and now I go to Paris and Lyon for a few months, but you may be certain that I shall return to England—then the separating months shall have passed and you will welcome me—is not that so?”
“I think I can promise you—every day seems to make it more certain that I shall welcome you.”