"Certainly not," said the Marquis, with a voice of half-stifled emotion.
"She is my childhood's friend, the companion of my sports. With her I received my first lessons in music. The divine art I adore. You all know we accord, exactly. I often sing false, my teacher tells me, but she never does."
To hear one the heart loves and adores, spoken of with qualification and familiarity by a stranger, is often an acute pain to a lover, so acute, that even the familiarity of a brother with a sister often causes distress to certain minds. Some jealous souls think this a robbery of friendship, and a profanation of their idol.
Maulear, wounded that the cherished name of Aminta should be so cavalierly treated by Gaetano, replied with ill-disguised temper,
"I understand, Signor, that there is nothing false, even musically speaking, in the sentiments expressed by you to Signora Rovero. Perhaps this is an exception to your usual habits, as your professor says. But were he to find fault with the correctness of your tones, he could not censure the sincerity of the passion breathed through them."
"Is not that true?" said Gaetano, really flattered at Maulear's compliment. "It is exalted, distinct, and intense. It is of a good school, and of the lofty style of Tacchinardi."
"Ah! Signor," replied Maulear impatiently, "you know as well as I do, that no artist, however skilful and great, can express love as lovers do."
"The fact is," continued Gaetano, "that Zingarelli must have loved some Julietta, when he wrote his Romeo."
"And you," answered Maulear, "must adore Signorina Aminta, to play so well the part of Romeo!"
"Certainly," said Gaetano, smiling; "and I know very few tenors in San Carlo who sing that duo as I do. All must confess that there is no Julietta like her."