us, and we mean to move on Saint John's Day.'

'On Saint John's Day!' repeated Don Alberto, with still more evident
surprise. 'Really! Indeed! I assure you that I did not expect this, my
dear Maestro, and I am almost inclined to think it a breach of
friendship. Are you not well lodged here? Are the rooms too small for
you and your lady? Or do you find them hot, or noisy? I do not
understand.'

'Pray put it down to an artist's foolish love of independence,'
Stradella answered with suavity. 'It is one thing for you rich nobles to
accept favours from each other; you can return them; but we poor
musicians cannot, and so we set a limit to what we think we may fairly
receive.'

'You give what we never can,' objected Don Alberto, 'for you give us
your genius and its works, and I suspect you have some reason hidden
away of which you do not care to speak. I can only tell you how sorry I
am that you should leave this house, where I had hoped you would live
whenever you came to Rome, and where you will always be welcome if you
wish to return.'

'It is impossible to be more courteous, and I wish I could express my
gratitude as well as you have worded your most kind invitation.'

The musician bowed rather formally from his chair as he spoke, but Don
Alberto was not pleased.

'Come, come, my dear Stradella,' he said familiarly, 'one would take us
for a couple of courtiers making compliments at each other. We used to
be good friends and comrades a year ago. Have you forgotten that
carnival season, and how we supped together on ten consecutive nights in
ten different eating-houses, with those two charming ladies from Genoa?
Ah, my dear fellow, how you have changed! But you were not married
then!'

'And never thought I should be! But I am not as much changed as you
think, and I dare say you will soon come to find it out. You spoke of
some urgent business that brings you here----'

'Yes. It is an important affair for you. His Holiness wishes you to
compose a high mass for Saint Peter's Day, for the united choirs of the
Sistine Chapel and Saint Peter's.'

'But the feast is on the twenty-ninth of this month!' cried Stradella in
surprise. 'The time is much too short! Less than three weeks for
composing such a work! I cannot possibly undertake to turn out anything
worthy in that time!'

'I give you the message as my uncle the Cardinal gave it to me,' Don
Alberto answered with assurance, though he had invented the commission
on