soul with purple glow!" said Capraja, waving his hand in
benediction at la _Diva_ Tinti.

"Heaven send all its blessings on your head!" cried a gondolier.

"Pharaoh will now revoke his commands," said the Duchess, while the
commotion in the pit was calming down. "Moses will overwhelm him, even
on his throne, by declaring the death of every first-born son in Egypt,
singing that strain of vengeance which augurs thunders from heaven,
while above it the Hebrew clarions ring out. But you must clearly
understand that this air is by Pacini; Carthagenova introduces it
instead of that by Rossini. This air, _Paventa_, will no doubt hold
its place in the score; it gives a bass too good an opportunity for
displaying the quality of his voice, and expression here will carry the
day rather than science. However, the air is full of magnificent menace,
and it is possible that we may not be long allowed to hear it."

A thunder of clapping and _bravos_ hailed the song, followed by deep and
cautious silence; nothing could be more significant or more thoroughly
Venetian than the outbreak and its sudden suppression.

"I need say nothing of the coronation march announcing the enthronement
of Osiride, intended by the King as a challenge to Moses; to hear it
is enough. Their famous Beethoven has written nothing grander. And this
march, full of earthly pomp, contrasts finely with the march of the
Israelites. Compare them, and you will see that the music is full of
purpose.

"Elcia declares her love in the presence of the two Hebrew leaders, and
then renounces it in the fine _aria_, _Porge la destra amata_. (Place
your beloved hand.) Ah! What anguish! Only look at the house!"

The pit was shouting _bravo_, when Genovese left the stage.

"Now, free from her deplorable lover, we shall hear Tinti sing,
_O desolata Elcia_--the tremendous _cavatina_ expressive of love
disapproved by God."

"Where art thou, Rossini?" cried Cataneo. "If he could but hear the
music created by his genius so magnificently performed," he went on.
"Is not Clarina worthy of him?" he asked Capraja. "To give life to those
notes by such gusts of flame, starting from the lungs and feeding in
the air on some unknown matter which our ears inhale, and which bears us
heavenwards in a rapture of love, she must be divine!"

"She is like the gorgeous Indian plant, which deserting the earth
absorbs invisible nourishment from the atmosphere, and sheds from
its spiral white bloss