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Nil admirari is the natural instinct of all men of the world; so, after a very cursory glance at my work, Monsieur de Trailles began to find shocking faults in it, and in so high and clear a voice that not a word was lost within a certain range. Marianina shrugged her shoulders as she listened to this profound discourse, and when it was ended she said, "How fortunate you came with us!
Well, to sum up in two brief sentences my reply to your warnings: As for the opinion of Monsieur Bixiou, I care as little for it as for last year's roses; and as for that other danger which you fear, I cannot tell you whether I love Marianina or not, but this I know, I do not love Madame de l'Estorade. That, I think, is giving you a plain and honest answer.
Her singing obscured the imperfect talents of the Malibrans, the Sontags, and the Fodors, in whom some one dominant quality always mars the perfection of the whole; whereas Marianina combined in equal degree purity of tone, exquisite feeling, accuracy of time and intonation, science, soul, and delicacy.
"That again was an invention of Marianina; and I may add that this duplicity assures me that had she remained in the world her future might have been terrible." "Am I to suppose that this tale has been told you by Madame de Lanty?" "Confided to me, monsieur, yes. You yourself saw Madame de Lanty's desire to stop your explanations yesterday, lest the truth might appear to her husband.
As to the truth or falsehood of these suppositions I know nothing, and, in all probability, shall continue to know nothing. But, as you can easily understand, the thought of Marianina is a luminous point to which my eye is forever attached. Shall I love her? Shall I hate her and despise her? That is the question perpetually in my mind.
"It is useless to deny them, monsieur," said Madame de Lanty; "Marianina has confessed all." "Mademoiselle Marianina!" I exclaimed. "Then the matter is very simple; have the goodness to bring us together; let me hear from her lips the explanation of this singular affair."
She was the type of that hidden poesy, the link which connects all the arts and which always eludes those who seek it. Modest, sweet, well-informed, and clever, none could eclipse Marianina unless it was her mother. Have you ever met one of those women whose startling beauty defies the assaults of time, and who seem at thirty-six more desirable than they could have been fifteen years earlier?
That shrill voice, if indeed it were a voice, escaped from a throat almost entirely dry. It was at once succeeded by a convulsive little cough like a child's, of a peculiar resonance. At that sound, Marianina, Filippo, and Madame de Lanty looked toward us, and their glances were like lightning flashes. The young woman wished that she were at the bottom of the Seine.
Involuntarily Marianina turned; when she saw me a vivid color came into her cheeks, and I slipped away into the crowd.
They walked painfully across the boudoir to a door hidden in the hangings. Marianina knocked softly. Instantly a tall, thin man, a sort of familiar spirit, appeared as if by magic.
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