Dominie (aside to Emma). That you may call forged sentiment, the counterfeit of feeling. You hear now how one ought not to sing. For an earnest, true musician, such a warmth in singing is only empty affectation, disgusting, sentimental rubbish, and hollow dissimulation. You will, however, frequently meet with such amateur infelicities.
(Mrs. Gold has finished singing all the verses of "True Happiness," and seems now to have almost entirely recovered. Mr. Gold continues to converse about stocks in the adjoining room. Dominie remains with Emma at the end of the parlor, depressed and worried.)
Mr. Forte (keeps his seat at the piano, and says in French to Mrs. Gold). Madam, you have reached the climax of the beautiful in music. I count it one of the happiest moments of my artistic tour to be allowed to breathe out my soul at the piano, in the presence of one like yourself. What a loss, that your position must prevent you from elevating the German opera to its former greatness, as its most radiant star!
Mrs. Gold (by this time quite well). I must confess that Jenny Lind never quite satisfied me when she was here. She is, and must always remain, a Swede,—utterly cold. If she had been educated here, she would have listened to more passionate models than in Stockholm, and that would have given the true direction to her sensibility.
Mr. Forte. You are quite right; you have a just estimate of her. In Paris, where she might have heard such examples, she lived in perfect retirement. I was giving concerts there at the time; but she refused to sing in my concerts, and therefore she did not even hear me.
Mr. Silver (whom the excitement of the singing has at length reached). Do you feel inclined now, Madam, to execute with me the duet from "The Creation," between Adam and Eve?
Mrs. Gold. Here is "The Creation," but we will sing it by and by. Mr. Forte is just going to play us his latest composition for the left hand, and some of the music of that romantic, deeply sensitive Chopin.
Mr. Gold (rushes in from his stock discussion). Oh, yes! Chopin's B major mazourka! That was also played at my house by Henselt, Thalberg, and Dreyschock. Oh, it is touching!
All (except Mr. Silver, Dominie, and Emma). Oh, how touching!
Dominie (to his daughter). If he plays it in the same manner in which he accompanied "True Happiness," you will hear how this mazourka should not be played. It, by the way, is not at all touching: it gives quite boldly the Polish dance rhythm, as it is improvised by the peasants in that country; but it is, however, idealized after Chopin's manner.