"'To let the new life in, we know
Desire must ope the portal.'
"And, surely, her earnest spirit was beating with feverish haste on that portal of her future for her new life.
"Of course we did not meet so constantly, and therefore not so familiarly as formerly. When we did meet, she was as frank and friendly as ever; but she was always preoccupied. She was studying daily with the great young maestro himself, then just rising to the full zenith of his fame, and her whole thoughts were filled with the music of the new opera he was writing, which she called glorious.
"'So grand and heroic,' she said, with enthusiasm, one morning, when describing it, 'and yet so original and fresh! The melodies are graceful, and the accompaniments as sparkling as these diamonds in their brilliancy.'
"At caffès, where silly young men murder reputations, it was said that Rossini was madly in love with the beautiful prima donna; and of course he was; for he could not help being in love, in his way, with every brilliant woman he met. Numberless stories were told of the bewitching tyranny 'La Malanotte,' as she was called, loved to exercise over her distinguished admirer, which were interpreted by the uncharitable as the caprice of a mistress in the first flush of her loving power. I had to listen in silence to such stories, and feel grateful that Montresor did not hear them also.
"'It is one of the penalties one always has to pay for a woman's fame,' I said to myself, one day, as I sat sipping my chocolate, while I was forced to overhear from a neighboring alcove an insolent young dandy tell of various scenes, betraying passionate love on both sides, which he had probably manufactured to make himself of consequence. One story he told I felt sure was false, and yet I would rather it had been true than the others; he declared he had been present at the theatre when it had taken place, which had been the morning previous,—the morning after the first representation of this famous opera. La Malanotte, he said, was dissatisfied with her opening cavatina, and at rehearsal had presented the maestro with the MS. of that passage torn into fifty atoms, declaring in a haughty tone that she would never sing it again. This was too unlike Adelaïde to be true; but I tried to swallow my vexation in silence, and with difficulty restrained myself from insulting the addle-pated young puppy. I had heard her say she did not like the passage so well as the rest of the opera, and felt sure that the whole story had been founded on this simple expression of disapprobation.
"I swallowed my chocolate, put on my hat, and sauntered leisurely along to Montresor's apartments. It was late in the afternoon; the servant admitted me, saying Madame was alone in the salon. The apartments were several rooms en suite; the music-room was divided from the salon by curtains. I entered the salon unannounced; for the valet de chambre was an old family-servant, and having known me for so many years as garçon de famille, he let me proceed through the antechamber unaccompanied. The heavy curtains over the music-room were dropped; but as I entered, I heard a low murmur of voices coming from it. The thick Turkey carpet which lay on the inlaid ivory floor of the salon gave back no sound of my footsteps. I did not think of committing any indiscretion; I concluded that Adelaïde was busy studying; so I took up a book and seated myself comfortably, feeling as well off there as at home.
"Presently I heard a brilliant preluding passage on the piano, then Adelaïde's glorious voice pronounced that stirring recitative, 'O Patria.' This was the passage alluded to by the young dandies in the caffè. I laid down my book, and leaned forward to listen. The recitative over, then followed that delicious 'hymn of youth and love,' as Scudo calls it, 'Tu che accendi' followed by the 'Di tanti palpiti.' Can you imagine the sensations produced by hearing for the first time such a passage? If you can, pray do, for I cannot describe them;—just fancy that intoxicating 'Ti revedrò' soaring up, followed by the glittering accompaniment,—and to hear it, as I did, just fresh from its source, the aroma from this bright-beaded goblet of youth and love! Heigho! Adelaïde repeated it again and again, and the enivrement seemed as great in the music-room as in my brain and heart. Then the low talking recommenced, and from some words that reached my ears I began to think I might be committing an indiscretion; so I left the room as I entered it, unannounced.
"That night I was at the theatre, and witnessed the wild, frantic reception of this cavatina, and also saw the point Scudo alludes to, which Adelaïde made that night for the first time, in the duo between Tancredi and Argirio, 'Ah, se de' mali miei,' in the passage at the close of 'Ecco la tromba,' at the repeat of 'Al campo.' She looked superbly, and, as that part of the duo ended, she advanced a step, drew up her fine form to its full height, flashed her sword with a gesture of inspiration, and exclaimed, in clear, musical diction, 'Il vivo lampo di questa spada.' The effect was electric. The duet could not proceed for the cries and shouts of enthusiasm; the whole theatre rose in one mass, and shouted aloud their ecstasy in one voice, as if they had but one common ear and heart.
"The instant the cries lessened, Adelaïde gave the sign to Argirio, and they took up the duo, 'Splenda terribile,' before the orchestra, equally electrified with the audience, were prepared for it, so that Adelaïde's clear ringing 'Mi' soared out like a mellow violoncello note, and she sang the three following measures unaccompanied. The short symphony which follows this little bit was not heard for the cries of applause, which were silenced only by the grand finale, 'Se il ciel mi guida.'