The Maestro was not alone in the dusty studio to which so many people, both of the great and little worlds, sought entrance in vain. An olive-skinned youth, shabbily dressed in a gray paletot over a worn suit of black—a young fellow of sixteen, with a square, shaggy black head and a determined9 chin, the cleft10 in which was rapidly being hidden by an arriving beard—leaned against a music-stand crammed11 with portly volumes, his dark eyes anxiously fixed12 upon the old gentleman at the piano, who dipped in the ink and wrote, and wrote, and dipped in the ink, occasionally laying down the pen to strike a chord or two, in seeming forgetfulness of his visitor.
Suddenly the Maestro’s face beamed with a cheerful smile.
155“There, mon cher Gladiali!” He handed the newly-written sheet of music to the boy, and spread his wrinkled fingers above the keys. “This is the great aria13-solo I spoke14 of. Sing that at sight—your training should make such a task an easy one—and let us see what stuff you are made of. Allons!” And he struck the opening chord.
Carlo Gladiali turned pale and then red. He crossed himself hastily, grasped the sheet of paper, cast his eyes over it anxiously, and, meeting with a smiling glance the glittering old eyes of the Maestro, he inflated15 his deep chest and sang. A wonderful tenor16 voice poured from his boyish throat; heart and soul shone in his eyes and thrilled in his accents. Tears of delight dropped upon the piano-keys and upon the hands of the composer, and when the last pure note soared on high and swelled17 and sank, and the song ceased, the old musician cried: “Thou art a treasure! Come, let me embrace thee!” and clasped the young singer to his breast. “Once more, mon fils—once more!”
And as he seated himself at the piano, sweeping18 the plate of sausage into the wastepaper-basket with a flourish of the large, snuff-stained yellow silk handkerchief with which he wiped his eyes, the door, which had been left ajar, was flung open, and a little dark-eyed, fair-haired girl, who carried a Pierrot-doll, ran quickly into the room.
“Marraine brought me; she is panting up the stairs because she is so fat and they are so steep. Oldest Papa——” she began; but the Maestro held up his hand for silence as the song recommenced. More assurance was in Carlo’s phrasing; the flexibility19 and brilliancy of his voice were no longer marred20 by nervousness. As the solo reached its triumphant21 close, the Maestro said, slapping the boy on the back and taking a gigantic pinch of snuff:
156“The Archangel Gabriel might have done better. Aha!” He turned, chuckling22, to the little girl, who stood on one leg in the middle of the narrow room, pouting23 and dangling24 her Pierrot. “La petite there is jealous. Is it not so?”
“Oldest Papa, you make a very big mistake!” returned the little maiden25, pouting still more. “I am not jealous of anybody in the world—least of all, a boy like that!” Her dark eyes rested contemptuously on the big, shy, square-headed fellow in the gray paletot.
“A boy, she calls him!” chuckled26 the Maestro. “Ma mignonne, he is sixteen—six years older than thyself! Hasten to grow up, become a great prima donna, and he shall sing Romeo to thy Juliette—I predict it!”
“I had rather sing with my cat!” observed the little lady rudely.
Carlo flushed crimson27; the Maestro chuckled; and a stout28 lady who had followed her, panting, into the room, murmured, “Oh! la méchante!” adding, as the Maestro rose to greet her: “But she grows more incorrigible29 every day. This morning she pulled the feathers out of Coco’s tail because he whistled out of tune30.”
The elfin face of the small sinner dimpled into mischievous31 smiles.
“But that was not being as wicked as the Maestro, who got angry at rehearsal32, and hit the flute-player on the head with his baton33, so that it raised a hump. You told me that yourself, and how the Maestro——”
“Quite true, petite; I did fetch him a rap, I promise you, and afterwards I put bank-notes for a hundred francs on the lump for a plaster. But come, now, sing to me, and we will give Signor Carlo here something worth hearing. écoutez, mon cher!”
“Very well, I will sing; but, first, Pierrot must be comfortably seated. That little armchair is just what he likes!” And, as quick as thought, the willful little 157lady tilted34 a pile of music out of the little armchair upon the floor. Then she placed Pierrot very carefully in his throne, and, bidding him be very good and listen, because his bonne petite Maman was going to sing him something pretty, she tripped to the piano, and demurely36 requested the aged37 musician to accompany her in the Rondo of “Sonnambula.”
Ah! what a miraculous38 voice proceeded from that small, willful throat! Stirred to the depths by the extraordinary power and beauty of the child’s delivery, Carlo Gladiali listened enthralled39; and when the last notes rippled40 from the pretty red lips of the now demure35 little creature, the big boy, forgetting her rudeness and his own shyness, started forward, and, sinking on one knee and seizing the small hand of the child-singer, he kissed it impulsively41, crying: “Ah, Signorina, you were right, a thousand times! Compared with you, I sing like a cat!”
“Oh, no! I did not mean to say that!” the tiny lady was beginning graciously, when the Maestro broke in:
“You both sing like cherubs43 and say civil things to one another. One day you will sing like angels—and quarrel like devils! Please Heaven, you will both make your début under my baton, and then, if I crack a flute-player’s head, it will be for joy.”
Ten years had elapsed. Carlo Gladiali had risen to pre-eminence as a public singer, had attained44 the prime of his powers and the apogee45 of his fame. Courted, fêted, and adored, the celebrated46 tenor, sated with success, laden47 with gifts, blasé with admiration48, retained a few characteristics that might remind those who had known and loved him in boyhood of the ingenuous49, honest, simple Carlo of ten years ago.
Certainly Carlo’s jealousy50 of the prima donna who should dare to usurp51 a greater share of the public plaudits 158than he himself received was childish in its unreasonableness52, and Othello-like in its tragic53 intensity54.
At first, he would join in the compliments, and smile patronizingly as he helped the successful débutante to gather up the bouquets55. Then his admiration would cool; he would tolerate, endure, then sneer56, and finally grind his teeth. He would convey to the audience over one shoulder that they were idiots to applaud, and wither57 the triumphant cantatrice with a look of infinite contempt over the other. He had been known to feign58 sleep in the middle of a great soprano aria which, against his wish, had been encored. He had—or it was malevolently59 reputed so—bribed the hotel waiter to place a huge dish of macaroni, dressed exquisitely61 and smoking hot, in the way of a voracious62 contralto who within two hours was to essay for the first time the arduous63 r?le of Brynhild. The macaroni had vanished, the contralto had failed to appear. Numerous were the instances similar to these recorded of the tenor Gladiali, and repeated in every corner of the opera-loving world.
But it was in London, where the great singer was “starring” during the Covent Garden Season of 19—, that the haughty64 and intolerant Carlo was to meet his match.
At rehearsal one morning, Rebelli, the famous basso, said to Gladiali, with a twinkle: “A new ‘star’ has dawned on the operatic horizon. La Betisi, the pretty little soprano with the fiend’s temper and the seraph’s voice, has created a furore at Rome and Milan. She will ‘star’ over here in her successful r?les. I have it from the impresario65 himself.”
“Ebbene!” Carlo shrugged66 his shoulders and smiled with superb patronage67. “We shall be very glad to welcome the little one.... Artists should know how to value genius in others.”
“How well you always express things!” said Rebelli, 159grinning. “She is to sing Isolina in ‘Belverde’ on the 10th. The Spanish prima donna has broken her contract. As Galantuomo, you will have an excellent opportunity of judging of her talents,” he added, as he turned away, “and scowling68 at the lady.”
But Carlo did not scowl69 at first. He was all engaging courtesy and cordial welcome at the first rehearsal, when he was presented ceremoniously to a tiny little lady with willful dark eyes, pouting scarlet70 lips, and hair as golden as her own Neapolitan sunshine. She vaguely71 reminded the tenor of somebody he had seen before.
“The Maestro is coming from Naples to conduct,” he heard Rebelli say. “He vowed72 that La Betisi should make her début under no baton save his own. Her r?le will be Isolina in his ‘Belverde,’ in which, you know, she created such a sensation at La Scala.”
“And you, Signor, are to sing the great part of Galantuomo in the ‘Belverde’?” said the Betisi demurely to Gladiali. “This time I will not say, ‘I had rather sing with my cat!’”
Carlo started. Yes; there was no mistaking the willful mouth and the flashing defiant73 eyes. The little girl who had sung so divinely in the Maestro’s dusty room ten years ago was the new operatic “star.” But he was not jealous of the Betisi as yet. He said the most exquisite60 things—as only an Italian can say them—and bowed over her hand.
“The Signorina has fulfilled the glorious promise of her childhood and the prophecy of the Maestro,” he said. “She who once sang like a cherub42 now sings like an angel. I am dying to hear you!” he added.
“Ah!” cried the Betisi with a little trill of laughter, “if you are dying now, what will you do afterwards?” The speech might have meant much or nothing, and, though Carlo Gladiali winced74 a little, he made no comment.
160A few rehearsals75 later a cloud of snuff enveloped76 him, and he was clasped in the arms of a brown great-coat of antique design. Add, above, a gray woolen77 comforter and a traveling cap with ear-pieces, and, below, a pair of green trousers, ending in cloth boots with patent-leather toecaps, and you have the portrait of the Maestro in traveling costume.
“Heaven be praised, my dear Carlino, that I have lived to see this day!... Have you renewed acquaintance with my little witch, my enchanted78 bird, my drop of singing-water? Embrace, my children; your Maestro wishes it!”
And Gladiali touched the cheek of Emilia Betisi with his lips. Her sparkling eyes looked mockingly into his. Then the Maestro, who spoke not a word of English, scrambled79 to the conductor’s chair, and commenced to harangue80 the musicians who constituted the orchestra in a fluent conglomeration81 of several other languages, and the rehearsals of “Belverde” began.
The new soprano and the new opera made an instantaneous and unparalleled “hit.” Carlo helped to pick up La Betisi’s bouquets, and made a pretty speech to her at the final descent of the curtain. But his heart was not in his eyes or on his lips.
Upon the second representation, he yawned in the middle of Isolina’s great aria, and he openly sneered82 at the audience for encoring the song three times. In the last Act, in the Garden Scene, which offered the principal opportunity for the display of the new prima donna’s art, Carlo sucked jujubes, and openly wore one in his cheek while receiving, as Galantuomo, from the maddened Isolina the most feverish83 protestations of love. He noted84 something more than feigned85 frenzy86 in the flaming black eyes of the Betisi at this juncture87, and, somewhat unwisely, permitted himself to smile. Next moment he received a deep scratch upon the cheek, 161which tingled88 for a moment, then bled copiously89, obliging the tenor to sing the final Romanza with a handkerchief to his face.
“Convey to Signor Gladiali my profoundest apologies,” said the Betisi to her dresser. “He will really think that he was singing a duet with a cat! But the next performance goes better.” Her dark eyes gleamed, her red lips smiled. She thirsted for the second representation.
So did Carlo. He had thought out a few little things calculated to drive a cantatrice to the pitch of desperation. For instance, at the second encore of her great song, separated only by a duet from his great song in the First Act, he would fetch a chair and sit down. Aha!
But—whether his intention had leaked out through Rebelli, to whom in a moment of champagne90 he had confided91 it, or whether the Betisi was in league with demons92, let it be decided—it was she who fetched, not a chair, but a three-legged stool, and sat down on it in the middle of his first encore. And so charming an air of patience did she assume, and so genuine seemed her pity for the deluded93 public who had redemanded the song, that Signor Carlo, who wore a strip of black Court plaster on one cheek, nearly had an apoplexy. He meant to eat jujubes through her great song, but the Betisi was prepared. She produced a box and offered them to him, singing all the while more brilliantly than she had ever sung before; and when the house rose at her in rapture94 and demanded an encore, she tripped and fetched the three-legged stool and gave it, with a triumphant curtsey, to the foaming95 Galantuomo. And the crowded house roared with delight.
But the punishment of Carlo came in the Second Act. In the celebrated Garden Scene, where slighted love drives Isolina into temporary madness, she not only 162scratched her Galantuomo on the other cheek, but pulled his wig off. And in the crowning scene, where Isolina reveals herself as the daughter of the King, and summons the Court to witness the humiliation96 of Galantuomo by beating on a gong which is suspended from a tree, came the Betisi’s great opportunity. Running through the most difficult passages of the arduous scena with the greatest nonchalance97, disposing of octaves, double octaves, and ranging from sol to si-flat in the violin-clef with the utmost ease, she electrified98 and enthralled her hearers; and, in the gusto of singing, when the moment arrived for striking on the gong previously99 referred to, she missed the instrument, and struck the tenor violently upon the nose. The unfortunate organ attained pantomimic dimensions within the few minutes that ensued subsequently to the delivery of the blow and previous to the falling of the curtain, and I have heard was favored by the gallery with a special call.
“Alas, Signor Carlo, I know not how to express my regret!... I was carried away...” faltered100 the Betisi, as with secret triumph and feigned remorse101 she looked upon the tenor’s swollen102 nose.
Carlo gave her a passionate103 glance over it. As it had enlarged, so had his heart and his understanding; he saw his enemy beautiful, triumphant—a Queen of Song. He was conquered and her slave.
“Never mind my nose,” he said generously. “I am beaten, fairly beaten, and with my own weapons. You are a clever woman, Signora, and a great singer. Permit me to take your hand.”
“There,” she said, and gave it. “And you, Signor, are a magnificent artist, though I have sometimes thought you a stupid man. What is it but stupidity—Dio!” she cried, “to be jealous of a woman of whom one is not even the lover or the husband?”
“Give me the right to be jealous,” said Carlo the 163tenor. “Make me one and the other! Marry me, Emilia. I adore you!”
An atmosphere of snuff and mildew104 enveloped them, as the Maestro, the date and design of whose evening dress-suit baffled the antiquarian and enraptured105 the caricaturist, embraced both the tenor and the soprano in rapid succession.
“Aha! Mes enfants, am I not a true prophet?” he cried. “Hasten to grow up, I said to the little one ten years ago, and Carlo there shall one day sing Romeo to thy Juliet.” He embraced them again. “You sing like angels—you quarrel like devils! Heaven intended you for one another. Be happy!” And the Maestro blessed the betrothed106 lovers with a sprinkling of snuff.
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1
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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sips
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| n.小口喝，一小口的量( sip的名词复数 )v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的第三人称单数 ) | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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15
inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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flexibility
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| n.柔韧性，弹性，（光的）折射性，灵活性 | |
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marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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enthralled
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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42
cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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cherubs
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| 小天使，胖娃娃( cherub的名词复数 ) | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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45
apogee
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| n.远地点；极点；顶点 | |
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46
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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47
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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48
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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49
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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50
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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51
usurp
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| vt.篡夺，霸占；vi.篡位 | |
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52
unreasonableness
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| 无理性； 横逆 | |
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53
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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54
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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55
bouquets
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| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
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56
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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57
wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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58
feign
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| vt.假装，佯作 | |
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59
malevolently
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60
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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61
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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62
voracious
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| adj.狼吞虎咽的，贪婪的 | |
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63
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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64
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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65
impresario
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| n.歌剧团的经理人；乐团指挥 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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67
patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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70
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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71
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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72
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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76
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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78
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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79
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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80
harangue
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| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
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81
conglomeration
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| n.团块，聚集，混合物 | |
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82
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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85
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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86
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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87
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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88
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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copiously
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| adv.丰富地，充裕地 | |
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90
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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91
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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92
demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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95
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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96
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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97
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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98
electrified
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| v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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99
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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100
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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101
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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102
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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103
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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104
mildew
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| n.发霉；v.（使）发霉 | |
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105
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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