like the Madonna: it is never to be forgotten! I serve my heart! Now,
Beppo, you may come; come quick for her. I see the carriage, and there
are three stout fellows in it who could trip and muzzle you at a signal
from me before you could count the letters of your father's baptismal
name. Oh! but if the signorina disobeys me and comes out last!--the
Signor Antonio will ask the maestro, who will say, "Yes, la Vittoria was
here with me last of the two"; and I lose my ten, my twenty, my thirty
napoleons.'

Luigi's chest expanded largely with a melancholy draught of air.

The carriage meantime had become visible at the head of the street,
where it remained within hearing of a whistle. One of the Milanese hired
vehicles drove up to the maestro's door shortly after, and Luigi
cursed it. His worst fears for the future of the thirty napoleons were
confirmed; the door opened and the Maestro Rocco Ricci, bareheaded and
in his black silk dressing-gown, led out Irma di Karski, by some called
rival to la Vittoria; a tall Slavic damsel, whose laughter was not soft
and smooth, whose cheeks were bright, and whose eyes were deep in the
head and dull. But she had vivacity both of lips and shoulders. The
shoulders were bony; the lips were sharp and red, like winter-berries in
the morning-time. Freshness was not absent from her aspect. The critical
objection was that it seemed a plastered freshness and not true bloom;
or rather it was a savage and a hard, not a sweet freshness. Hence
perhaps the name which distinguished her la Lazzeruola (crab apple). It
was a freshness that did not invite the bite; sour to Italian taste.

She was apparently in vast delight. 'There will be a perfect inundation
to-morrow night from Prague and Vienna to see me even in so miserable a
part as Michiella,' she said. 'Here I am supposed to be a beginner; I am
no debutante there.'

'I can believe it, I can believe it,' responded Rocco, bowing for her
speedy departure.

'You are not satisfied with my singing of Michiella's score! Now, tell
me, kind, good, harsh old master! you think that Miss Vittoria would
sing it better. So do I. And I can sing another part better. You do not
know my capacities.'

'I am sure there is nothing you would not attempt,' said Rocco, bowing
resignedly.

'There never was question of my courage.'

'Yes, but courage, courage! away with your courage!' Rocco was spurred
by his personal grievances against her in a manner to make him