bringing, religion, faith, and piety,
with all their delicate loveliness, to grace the abundance of his life's
feast--it was bad, doubtless, that, at the moment of success, a terrible
catastrophe should have cruelly broken this lovely plaything, and left
him with a haunting conscience as of well-nigh a deliberate murderer.
All this was bad, but now he seemed about to fail, not only in these
original and high efforts, which perhaps had never been attempted
before, but in the simplest schemes of art; and to fail, to be foiled by
the perversity of a girl! He had great influence in Vienna; he doubted
not but that he could soon overcome the opposition of interested rivals,
or, if not exactly this, there were other masters besides this one,
there was other music for the Signorina to sing. He believed with him
that her future would be brilliant, and he considered himself the
rightful possessor of her triumph and of her charm. He imperiously
ordered the Maestro to remain.

The old man begged to be excused.

He was old and broken down, he said; he had taught the Signorina all he
knew. Henceforward he must pass her on to abler teachers. It was no wish
of his that she should accompany him, he had urged her to remain.

In truth, as was not wonderful, his whole heart was in this last music
of his; as a matter of selfish pride and enjoyment even, apart from his
narrow, though to some extent real, conceptions of art, he must hear it
again performed in a great theatre, and that soon.

The vexation of the Prince became excessive. He lost his habitual ease
and serenity of tone. He sent for Carricchio.

The Princess Isoline was with him.

"Let the girl go, Ferdinand," she was saying. "Let her go for a time.
She will improve by travel, and by singing in other cities. She is of a
grateful and affectionate nature; be sure that she will never forget
you: she will return when you send for her."

Then, as Carricchio was announced, the Princess rose and left the room.

"Carricchio," said the Prince impetuously, "you must stop this nonsense
of the Banti's leaving Vienna. If the Maestro chooses to stay, well and
good. If he chooses to go, also good. He will be a stupid old fool! But
it is his own business. I have nothing to do with it; but Tina shall not
go. She belongs to me. I will not have it. You have influence with her,
and must stop it."

"Highness," said Carricchio, "she will not go for long. The Maestro is
old and broken; he will