es of the bar. 'A German ass!' exclaimed the tenor. I
felt as if I must rush in and hurl the flighty hero of the boards out
of the window, but I restrained myself. She then went on to say that
she had been minded to send me about my business at once, but, moved by
my clamorous entreaties, she had so far had compassion upon me as to
tolerate me some time longer, since I was studying singing under her.
This, to my utter amazement, Teresina confirmed. 'Yes, he's a good
child,' she added; 'he's in love with me now and sets everything for
the alto. He is not without talent, but he must rub off that stiffness
and awkwardness which is so characteristic of the Germans. I hope to
make a good composer out of him; then he shall write me some good
things--for there's very little written as yet for the alto voice--and
afterwards I shall let him go his own way. He's very tiresome with his
billing and cooing and love-sick sighing, and he worries me too much
with his wearisome compositions, which have been but poor stuff up to
the present.' 'I at least have now got rid of him,' interrupted
Lauretta; 'and Teresina, how the fellow pestered me with his arias and
duets you know very well.' And now she began to sing a duet of my
composing, which formerly she had praised very highly. The other sister
took up the second voice, and they parodied me both in voice and in
execution in the most shameful manner. The tenor laughed till the walls
rang again. My limbs froze; at once I formed an irrevocable resolve. I
quietly slipped away from the door back into my own room, the windows
of which looked upon a side street. Opposite was the post-office; the
post-coach for Bamberg had just driven up to take in the mails and
passengers. The latter were all standing ready waiting in the gateway,
but I had still an hour to spare. Hastily packing up my things, I
generously paid the whole of the bill at the hotel, and hurried across
to the post-office. As I crossed the broad street I saw the fair
sisters and the Italian still standing at the window, and looking out
to catch the sound of the post-horn. I leaned back in the corner, and
dwelt with a good deal of satisfaction upon the crushing effect of the
bitter scathing letter that I had left behind for them in the hotel."

* * * * * * *

With evident gratification Theodore tossed off the rest of the fiery
Aleatico[8] that Edward had poured into his glass. The latter, opening