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Updated: May 14, 2025
As he was leaving the inn amid a hail of curses from his infamous friends, an impulse of genuine pity prompted me to follow him, that I might beg his forgiveness and seek in some way to pacify him, a task all the more difficult since he was especially bitter against me as the latest of his enemies, and the one who had so deeply deceived his eager hope of hearing the genuine Lablache.
However it was, during the short time the term had run, the two men had struck up an acquaintance which perplexed a great many spectators and displeased a great many more. "I think you should be careful with Lablache," said Grover to his friend. "Not that I know anything against him, but his reputation in the school is rather doubtful."
To cite the names of Rubini, Lablache, Tamburini, Malibran, Grisi, Persiani, is to give the highest idea of Italian singing. But although Chopin was more devoted and more happy in his Polish friendships, he had beloved as well as loving friends of all nationalities Germans, English, and even Russians. That as a good Pole he hated the Russians as a nation may be taken for granted.
The acquaintance ripened into the most intimate friendship, and in 1832 a concert company was formed, consisting of Malibran, De Bériot, and Luigi Lablache, the celebrated and gigantic basso. They made a tour of Italy, meeting with the most extraordinary success. De Bériot and the beautiful Madame Malibran were now inseparable.
There was no necessity to look down deliberately to see the reflection of each card as it passed on its way to its recipient, a glance just the glance necessary when dealing cards and the money-lender, by a slight effort of memory, knew every hand that was out. Lablache was cheating. To say that "Lord" Bill was astonished would be wrong. He was not. He had long suspected it.
He had heard all the great singers in Paris and London Pasta and Rubini and Lablache and when you had done that, you could say that you knew what singing was. "I sing a little myself," he said; "some day I will show you. Not to-day, but some other time." And then he got up to go; he had omitted, by accident, to say that he would sing to her if she would play to him.
Had he been following the game with his usual keenness he would only have been thinking of the betting. Lablache was writing upon his memo, pad, which was a gorgeous effort in silver mounting. One of those oblong blocks with a broad band of burnished silver at the binding of the perforated leaves.
Tamburini, in particular, was so oppressed by the death of his young friend that his vocalization, generally so perfect, was often at fault, while the faces of Grisi, Rubini, and Lablache too plainly showed their aching hearts. Rossini, Cherubini, Paer, and Carafa had charge of the funeral, and M. Habeneck, chef d'orchestre of the Académie Royale, of the music.
The next hand passed without the pot being opened and the next. Lablache was a little cautious. The next deal resulted in favor of the rancher. Five three. Lablache again took the cards. This time he meant to get his hand in the deal. At that moment the money-lender would have given a cool thousand had a bottle of whisky been on the table. He had not calculated on John being sober.
"Lord" Bill alone appeared unmoved. A close observer even might have noticed the faintest suspicion of a smile at the corners of his mouth. The smile broadened as the sharp doctor launched a question at the narrator of terrible facts. "How came you to see all this, and escape?" Thompson was at no loss. He told how he had been sent up by "Poker" John to find Horrocks and tell him about Lablache.
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