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A small handbell was rung, two pieces of old carpet were drawn back, and the little girl made her bow to the audience in a costume as near to that of Mignon as she and her mother could make it. She sang: 'Connais-tu le pays ou fleurit l'oranger? and other airs from the opera in a small, bird-like voice, unaccompanied by any music.
Seeing the music of Duprato's "Il etait nuit deja," I proposed singing that, and he sat down at the pedal-less piano to accompany me. When I arrived at the phrase, "Un souffle d'air leger apportait jusqu'a nous l'odeur d'un oranger," he interrupted me. "Repeat that!" he cried. "Il faut qu'on sente le souffle d'air et l'odeur de l'oranger."
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