tent with Consuelo's success on the stage; he also
wanted her for himself. Consuelo gravely refused the jewels and
ornaments he offered her, and the count was strangely annoyed. He was
thrilled with unknown emotions by Consuelo's singing, and his patrician
soul could not realise that this poor little pupil of Porpora's was not
to be won by the ordinary methods, which he had hitherto employed
successfully in the conquest of opera singers.

Porpora saved Consuelo from the count's threatening attentions.

The prima donna suddenly disappeared, and it was said she had gone to
Vienna, that she had been engaged for the emperor's theatre, and that
Porpora was also going there to conduct his new opera.

Count Zustiniani was particularly embarrassed by Consuelo's flight. He
had led all Venice to believe this wonderful new singer favoured his
addresses. Some, indeed, maintained for a time that, jealous of his
treasure, the count had hidden her in one of his country houses. But
when they heard Porpora say, with a blunt openness which could never
deceive, that he had advised his pupil to go to Germany and wait for
him, there was nothing left but to try and find out the motives for this
extraordinary decision.

To all inquiries addressed to him Porpora answered that no one should
ever know from him where Consuelo was to be found.

In real truth, it was not only Zustiniani who had driven Consuelo away.
A youth named Anzoleto, who had grown up in Venice with Consuelo so that
the two were as brother and sister, and who lacked both heart and
constancy, made life too hard for Consuelo. Anxious to get all the
advantages of Consuelo's friendship, and to be known as her betrothed,
so that he could procure an engagement in the opera through her generous
influence, he yet made love to another singer, a former favourite of
Zustiniani's. Learning of Anzoleto's heartless unfaithfulness, and
pressed by Zustiniani, Consuelo had turned to her old master for help,
and had not been disappointed.

_II.--In Bohemia_

Among the mountains which separate Bohemia from Bavaria stood an old
country house, known as the Castle of the Giant, the residence of the
Lords of Rudolstadt. A strange mystery reigned over this ancient family.
Count Christian Rudolstadt, the head of the house, a widower, his elder
sister, the Canoness Wenceslawa, a venerable lady of seventy, and Count
Albert, the only son and heir, lived alone with their retainers, never
assoc