will be long before he will forget the
applause of Quiquendone!"

The tenor Fiovaranti was, indeed, going to sing; Fiovaranti, who,
by his talents as a virtuoso, his perfect method, his melodious
voice, provoked a real enthusiasm among the lovers of music in
the town.

For three weeks Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant success
in "Les Huguenots." The first act, interpreted according to the
taste of the Quiquendonians, had occupied an entire evening of
the first week of the month.--Another evening in the second week,
prolonged by infinite _andantes_, had elicited for the celebrated
singer a real ovation. His success had been still more marked in
the third act of Meyerbeer's masterpiece. But now Fiovaranti was
to appear in the fourth act, which was to be performed on this
evening before an impatient public. Ah, the duet between Raoul
and Valentine, that pathetic love-song for two voices, that
strain so full of _crescendos_, _stringendos_, and _piu
crescendos_--all this, sung slowly, compendiously, interminably!
Ah, how delightful!

[Illustration: Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant success
in "Les Huguenots."]

At four o'clock the hall was full. The boxes, the orchestra, the
pit, were overflowing. In the front stalls sat the Burgomaster
Van Tricasse, Mademoiselle Van Tricasse, Madame Van Tricasse, and
the amiable Tatanemance in a green bonnet; not far off were the
Counsellor Niklausse and his family, not forgetting the amorous
Frantz. The families of Custos the doctor, of Schut the advocate,
of Honore Syntax the chief judge, of Norbet Sontman the insurance
director, of the banker Collaert, gone mad on German music, and
himself somewhat of an amateur, and the teacher Rupp, and the
master of the academy, Jerome Resh, and the civil commissary, and
so many other notabilities of the town that they could not be
enumerated here without wearying the reader's patience, were
visible in different parts of the hall.

It was customary for the Quiquendonians, while awaiting the rise
of the curtain, to sit silent, some reading the paper, others
whispering low to each other, some making their way to their
seats slowly and noiselessly, others casting timid looks towards
the bewitching beauties in the galleries.

But on this evening a looker-on might have observed that, even
before the curtain rose, there was unusual animation among the
audience. People were restless who were never known to be
restless before. The