"And have you found him?" asked Marianne, with a meaning smile. "I have.
It is-"
"Calzabigi," interrupted she.
"How!" cried the fiery Gluck, "after promising secrecy, has he been unable to curb his tongue?"
"Nonsense, Christopher! he has not said a word to me. I guessed this long ago."
"And how comes it that you never hinted a word of it to ME?"
"I waited for the hour when you deemed it best to speak, my love; for I fully comprehend the reasons for your silence. I waited therefore until Minerva should come forth, full armed, to challenge Jove's opponents to the strife. Meanwhile I had faith in God and thee, Christopher, and I prayed for Heaven's blessing on thy genius."
"Heaven will hear thy prayer, my better self," cried Gluck, drawing his wife close to his heart. "Oh, how happy I feel to be permitted to speak with thee of my past labors! How gladly shall I listen to thy criticisms or thy approval! both, more to me than those of all the world beside. Come, Marianne, I will begin now."
He sprang up from the divan, and would have hurried to the piano, but Marianne held him back. "Maestro," said she, "before we sacrifice to Apollo, let us give to life and mortality their rights. Prose awaits us in the dining-room, and we shall give her audience before we open the pages of this nameless opera."
"You shall hear its name, Marianne. It is—"
Marianne put her arms around his neck, and whispered, "Hush, my Orpheus!"