“‘Perfectly, Monsieur. Entertain no apprehensions on my account.’
“The gentleman smiled, bowed, released my arm, and I entered alone. I saw an immense crowd of human faces and forms before me; the house presented a brilliant array of fashion and beauty; the light of the chandeliers was dazzling; far from feeling intimidated, I felt perfectly at home. I had been fearful lest I should forget my notes, but they remained firmly impressed on my mind; a tumult of applause shook the house as I came forward to the foot-lights; when it had subsided I began to sing, almost forgetful that there was any audience there, and thinking only of my part. I acted naturally, and, therefore, pleasingly—for nature is ever pleasing. At the conclusion of the first act, a round of applause again greeted me; and when I went behind the scenes, Monsieur and the manager warmly congratulated me on my self-possession, in the song Dele Conte, a duet between Norma and Adelgisa; I was encored, and sang it twice; my cheeks were flushed like crimson, and I felt elated at my manifest triumph. At the conclusion of the Opera, a shower of bouquets and wreaths were thrown at my feet; one splendid wreath of exotic flowers, which struck my hand as it fell on the floor, was thrown from one of the stage boxes; happening to uplift my eyes, as I was singing the last song of the Opera, my gaze met that of a magnificent looking man, who stood quietly contemplating me. There was something in the magnetic attraction of those large languid black eyes, which sent a new thrill of life, a feeling I had never experienced, rushing through my veins; what could that inexplicable sensation mean? it was probably that man who had thrown the wreath at my feet. One of the actors gallantly picked it up, and placed it upon my head. Once more I heard myself applauded; delightful sound of approval, and the curtain fell.
“I felt exhausted from my violent exertion of voice, and sat down in the green-room, while the manager fanned me, and the other actors complimented me. Monsieur Belmont seemed well pleased with me and himself, and was in his best humor.
“‘You have made a decided hit, Mademoiselle,’ said my faithless husband of the play; ‘although you are not yet perfect in stage trick and manner, yet you have done wonders for the first time.’
“‘I am obliged to you for the compliment, Monsieur,’ I replied.
“One of the servants of the theatre came into the room, bearing an armful of bouquets (the beautiful wreath still remained upon my head). When deposited in my lap, the jewels amid the flowers sparkled in the lamp light. ‘What do you intend doing with all these flowers, petite enfant?’ asked my guardian.
“‘Oh, I shall carry them home to Madame Bonni, as trophies of my triumph: are they not beautiful, Monsieur?’
“‘Yes, very beautiful; some of those jewels among them I should think were valuable; but it is time to depart. Let the servant carry your flowers to the carriage.’
“The manager politely attended me to the door of the carriage, and placed me in it.
“Madame Bonni had reached home before us, and we passed an hour in discussing the events of the night. Good little woman! the world still seemed fresh and new to her, although she had long since passed the zenith of life. Even so trivial a thing as a visit to a theatre could afford her pleasure. Happy are those, I say, who can be pleased by trifles. What is our whole existence but a composition of trifles?