use of
the quarrel with the Cardinal; this the secret not to be proclaimed till
the success was won, and the daughter had united her father's triumph
with her own! And there she stands, as all souls bow before her,--fairer
than the very Siren he had called from the deeps of melody. Oh, long and
sweet recompense of toil! Where is on earth the rapture like that which
is known to genius when at last it bursts from its hidden cavern into
light and fame!

He did not speak, he did not move; he stood transfixed, breathless, the
tears rolling down his cheeks; only from time to time his hands still
wandered about,--mechanically they sought for the faithful instrument,
why was it not there to share his triumph?

At last the curtain fell; but on such a storm and diapason of applause!
Up rose the audience as one man, as with one voice that dear name was
shouted. She came on, trembling, pale, and in the whole crowd saw but
her father's face. The audience followed those moistened eyes; they
recognised with a thrill the daughter's impulse and her meaning. The
good old Cardinal drew him gently forward. Wild musician, thy daughter
has given thee back more than the life thou gavest!

"My poor violin!" said he, wiping his eyes, "they will never hiss thee
again now!"

CHAPTER 1.III.

Fra si contrarie tempre in ghiaccio e in foco,
In riso e in pianto, e fra paura e speme
L'ingannatrice Donna--
"Gerusal. Lib.," cant. iv. xciv.

(Between such contrarious mixtures of ice and fire, laughter and
tears,--fear and hope, the deceiving dame.)

Now notwithstanding the triumph both of the singer and the opera, there
had been one moment in the first act, and, consequently, BEFORE the
arrival of Pisani, when the scale seemed more than doubtful. It was in a
chorus replete with all the peculiarities of the composer. And when the
Maelstrom of Capricci whirled and foamed, and tore ear and sense through
every variety of sound, the audience simultaneously recognised the
hand of Pisani. A title had been given to the opera which had hitherto
prevented all suspicion of its parentage; and the overture and opening,
in which the music had been regular and sweet, had led the audience
to fancy they detected the genius of their favourite Paisiello. Long
accustomed to ridicule and almost to despise the pretensions of Pisani
as a composer, they now felt as if they had been unduly cheated into
the applause with which they had h