way
to prison, with a sense that they have seen all there _is_ to be
seen, and a vague recollection that there is some fighting to be done
somewhere.

SCENE 2.--_Leonora_, and _Manrico_ are about to be married; everything
prepared--four apathetic bridesmaids, and the four acolytes in
tights--who have possibly been kindly lent by the Convent for the
occasion--in a vacuous row at the back of the scene. Fancy _Manrico_
has forgotten to give them the usual initial brooches, and they feel
the wedding is a poky affair, and take no interest in it. _Leonora_
herself is in low spirits--seems to miss the confidant, and to be
oppressed with a misgiving that the wedding is not destined to come
off. Misgivings on the stage are never thrown away--the wedding _is_
interrupted immediately by a crowd of men, in small sugar-loaf caps,
who carry the bridegroom off to fight--whereupon, of course, the
Curtain falls.

[Illustration: Luna and the Star of the Evening.]

ACT IV. SCENE 1.--_Leonora_ listening outside the tower in which
_Manrico_ is being tortured, after having been taken prisoner in a
combat during the _entr'acte_. Here a confidant might have comforted
her considerably by representing that they couldn't be torturing the
poor Troubadour so _very_ seriously so long as he is able to take part
in a duet--but unfortunately _Leonora_ seems to have discharged the
confidant after the Second Act--an error of judgment on her part, for
she is certainly incapable of taking care of herself. A cool-headed,
sensible confidant, for instance, would have taken care that the
bargain with the _Conte di Luna_ was conceived and carried out in a
more business-like spirit.

"Now _do_ be careful," she would have said. "Make sure that the Count
keeps _his_ word before you break _yours_. Don't go and see _Manrico_
yourself--it _can_ do no good, and will only harrow you! If you
really _must_ go, don't take a quick poison first--or you'll die
in his dungeon, and spoil the whole thing!" Which is just what
_Leonora_--like the impulsive operatic heroine she is--proceeds to
do, and is cruelly misunderstood by _Manrico_, in consequence, besides
hastening his doom by disappointing the Count, whose irritation was
only natural, and pardonable, under the circumstances.

Don't quite see myself why the Count should be so horrified on
learning that the person he has just had executed was his long-lost
brother. It is not as if they had ever been friendly, or were