“How charming it must have been!” exclaimed Miss Collingwood. “And did you really find the higher classes so superior to ours, Mrs. Fielding?”
“Oh, my dear!” ejaculated Mrs. Fielding, “unfortunately there’s no question about it! I sometimes almost regret our visit to Europe, on that account. It does spoil one so for home.”
While she was still speaking, the Falconers entered. They and Mrs. Fielding had not met (being residents of different cities) since their return from Europe. They greeted each other with great cordiality, and were, during the first few minutes of their interview, so occupied with what really seemed the pleasure of seeing each other, that Miss Collingwood, the lady on whom they were calling, seemed in a fair way of being forgotten. After having, however, inquired and taken the address of the Falconers, Mrs. Fielding took her leave of the party. After a few minutes’ general conversation, Miss Collingwood said,
“I observed you at the opera, last night, Miss Falconer; how were you pleased?”
“Very well,” replied the young lady. “It is not a first-rate company, of course—but very fair.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” replied Miss Collingwood, eagerly, “for it struck me as such; but Mrs. Fielding spoke of its being so very inferior, that I supposed I must be mistaken. Indeed, I take it for granted, that hearing such music as she has heard at the opera, in Paris, must make one fastidious.”
Miss Falconer smiled as she replied,
“I don’t think Mrs. Fielding heard music enough at the Italian Opera, in Paris, to spoil her for any she may hear in this country.”
“Why,” returned Miss Collingwood, with the sudden expression of one who has caught a new light, “she tells me she has heard Lablache, Tamburini, Persiani, &c.”
“Of course,” replied Miss Falconer. “Everybody hears them once or twice. But what is it to hear an opera once?”