ut my
pupil, as if I had nothing better or wiser to write about. I have done
so because the subject has a certain interest for you. You must know
this curious little angel confides in me as if I were her confessor.
Sometimes she chatters all through her lesson, telling me where she
has been, what she has done, everything that has happened to her; and
she often tells me things which, if I were in her place, I would not
talk about. Have a little patience, my dear good papa. This lady has
thirty-three different _roles_, all of them of different kinds. They
are not, strictly speaking, stage parts, but monologues, which are
composed expressly for her. These scenes we rehearse together; I play
her accompaniment, while she sings and acts.

"I am coming now to the kernel of the nut. I am going to crack
it for you. Here are the names of the actress's thirty-three
parts--'Loreley,' 'Cleopatra,' 'The Queen of the Sun,' 'The Greek
Slave,' 'The Bacchante,' 'Nourmahal,' 'The Bride,' 'The Matron's
Cap,' 'The Bayadere,' 'Claudia Laeta, the Vestal,' 'Amalasontha,'
'Magdalene,' 'Ninon,' 'La Somnambula,' 'Medea,' 'Salome,' 'The
Houris,' 'The Despair of Hero,' 'The Phrygian Cap,' 'Turandot,' 'The
Peasant Girl,' 'The Mother,' 'Jeanne la Folle,' 'Ophelia,' 'Judith,'
'Zuleika Potiphar,' 'The Market Woman,' 'The Grisette,' 'The
Creole,' 'Lucretia,' 'The Will-o'-the-Wisp,' 'Julia Gonzaga.'

"The thirty-third part I do not know; we have not as yet rehearsed it.
But why the deuce does she learn all these parts, for she never treads
the boards? The report is that the reason why this lady's talent is so
much cultivated is that she is engaged to sing at the Opera-house.
This seems even more strange, and I, for one, am slow to believe it. A
banker like Kaulmann, who is a millionaire, and whose wife pays for
her apartment four thousand florins! Besides, she would have to give
her singing-master, who has got her the engagement, six thousand; to
the leader of the orchestra, two thousand; four thousand to the
newspapers to puff her; another three thousand to the _claqueurs_; and
something else to the men who throw the wreaths and flowers. There
would remain for her about a thousand florins; that would hardly pay
for her scents. So you see the absurdity of the whole thing. Where are
we now? This pretty creature, who wishes also to be a famous artist,
has several lovers who can easily pay their court to madame, seeing
that she and her husband live in sep