"Unwelcome?" repeated Salvani. "Signora, what are you thinking of? On the contrary, we were just speaking about you and wishing you were here."
"Flatterer," said La Luciola, laughing, and pointing her finger warningly at him.
"No, signora, Salvani says the truth," Ticellini said, earnestly. "We wish to ask a great favor of you."
"That is excellent. I also come to ask for a favor," replied the diva, springing up hurriedly. "You speak first, and then you shall hear what brought me to your office."
"Oh, signora," said Ticellini, crossing his hands and falling on one knee, "my fate lies in your hands."
"That sounds quite tragical! One would imagine I was Marshal Radetzky. But are you ever going to tell me what is the matter?"
"We—I—" began Salvani, stammering.
"My dear impresario," interrupted La Luciola, laughing, "let us make short work of it. I will tell you why I came, and, in the meantime, you can collect your thoughts. Well, then, I am growing tired at La Scala; Donizetti, Bellini, and whatever other names your great composers bear, are very good fellows, but, you know, toujours perdrix."
"Well—and—" asked Salvani, breathlessly, as the diva paused.