Ah! I had never heard what music was in my life
before! Then the sisters sang one of those grand impressive duets of
Abbot Steffani[6] which confine themselves to notes of a low register.
My soul was stirred at the sound of Teresina's alto, it was so
sonorous, and as pure as silver bells. I couldn't for the life of me
restrain my emotion; tears started to my eyes. My uncle coughed
warningly, and cast angry glances upon me; it was all of no use, I was
really quite beside myself. This seemed to please the sisters; they
began to inquire into the nature and extent of my musical studies; I
was ashamed of my performances in that line, and with the hardihood
born of enthusiastic admiration, I bluntly declared that that day was
the first time I had ever heard music. 'The dear good boy!' lisped
Lauretta, so sweetly and bewitchingly.

"On reaching home again, I was seized with a sort of fury: I pounced
upon all the toccatas and fugues that I had hammered out, as well as a
beautiful copy of forty-five variations of a canonical theme that the
organist had written and done me the honour of presenting to me,--all
these I threw into the fire, and laughed with spiteful glee as the
double counterpoint smoked and crackled. Then I sat down at the piano
and tried first to imitate the tones of the guitar, then to play the
sisters' melodies, and finished by attempting to sing them. At length
about midnight my uncle emerged from his bedroom and greeted me with,
'My boy, you'd better just stop that screeching and troop off to bed;'
and he put out both candles and went back to his own room. I had no
other alternative but to obey. The mysterious power of song came to me
in my dreams--at least I thought so--for I sang '_Sento l'amica speme_'
in excellent style.

"The next morning my uncle had hunted up everybody who could fiddle
and blow for the rehearsal. He was proud to show what good musicians
the town possessed; but everything seemed to go perversely wrong.
Lauretta set to work at a fine scene; but very soon in the recitative
the orchestra was all at sixes and sevens, not one of them had any idea
of accompaniment Lauretta screamed--raved--wept with impatience and
anger. The organist was presiding at the piano; she attacked him with
the bitterest reproaches. He got up and in silent obduracy marched out
of the hall. The bandmaster of the town, whom Lauretta had dubbed a
'German ass!' took his violin under his arm, and, banging his hat on
his