ibran. The rivalry of the two singers
was ended by the influence of music. One night, singing together the
duet from "Semiramide," each was so overcome at the beauty of the
other's voice and art, that they embraced and became friends.

De Beriot had an equally strange experience with the two women. He fell
madly in love with Sontag, slight, blue-eyed and blonde as she was, and
then only twenty-five. But De Beriot paid his court in vain, because at
this time Sontag was engaged to the young diplomat, Count Rossi; as it
would have hurt his influence to be engaged to the child of strolling
players, the engagement was kept secret, until the count could persuade
the King of Prussia to grant her a patent of nobility. When they were
married, she gave up the stage, and travelled from court to court with
her husband, singing only for charity. As her brother said: "Rossi made
my sister happy, in the best sense of the word. To the day of their
death they loved each other as on their wedding-day."

But political troubles ruined the count's fortunes, and it seemed
necessary for the countess to return to the stage. Now again the court
wished to separate diplomacy from the drama played on the open stage.
Rossi was told that he might retain his ambassadorship if he would
formally separate from his wife, at least until she could again leave
the stage. But Rossi believed that it was his turn to make a sacrifice,
and could not bear a separation; so he resigned, and travelled with his
wife. They came to America, and in Mexico the cholera ended her
beautiful life at the age of forty-nine.

It was into this ideal romance that De Beriot had wandered unwittingly
in 1830. It was fortunate that he could not prevail against the noble
Count Rossi, even though his failure caused him pain. It almost cost
him his health, and he suffered so obviously that his friends were
alarmed. Among those endeavouring to console him was Madame Malibran,
whom people, who like exclusive superlatives, have been pleased to
select as the greatest singer in the history of music. Like Sontag, she
was the child of stage people, and, indeed, had made her first
appearance at the age of five.

In 1826 she, and that wonderful assembly, the Garcia family, had found
themselves in New York, where an old French merchant, supposed to be
rich, married her. It is certain that Malibran married the old merchant
for his money--a thing so common that one cannot stop to express
indign