"I scarcely dare," said the Count, with an expression of great pleasure, "to think the Signorina entertains such interest in my behalf."
"It was not precisely of yourself that she spoke," replied Gaetano, "but of my friend Taddeo, her brother, who was known to be compromised with you, and about whom she, naturally enough, was interested."
The Count grew slightly pale as he saw this gratification wrested from him.
"By-the-by, Signori," said Gaetano, "you have heard the news with which all the city and suburbs echo, and which makes almost as much noise as the trial of the Count Monte-Leone."
"I trust," said the Count, bitterly, "that the news is more pleasant."
"Infinitely more so," continued Gaetano. "Every one is talking of it, and crazed with it—especially myself, who am a pazzo per la musica, like the here of Fioravanti. You know, Signori, nothing is more pleasant than to win again a pleasure we fancy to have been lost to us."
"Go on," said Taddeo, who had a presentiment that something pleasant was about to be related. The very mention of music made him quiver.
"Well, Signori," said Gaetano, "the Sicilian siren, the fairy La Felina, sings to-night at San Carlo."
"La Felina?" said all the listeners at once.
"La Felina! impossible!" said Rovero. "She left Naples last night."