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The woman who lies here was so remarkably stingy, that during her life she would get up in the night and mew, that her neighbors might think she kept a cat. What a miser she was! Here rests a young lady, of a good family, who would always make her voice heard in society, and when she sang "Mi manca la voce," it was the only true thing she ever said in her life.
Rodolphe reveled in the exquisite sensation of listening to the voice of the woman he adored, while sitting so close to her that one cheek was almost touched by the stuff of her dress and the gauze of her scarf. But when, at such a moment, Mi manca la voce is being sung, and by the finest voices in Italy, it is easy to understand what it was that brought the tears to Rodolphe's eyes.
So, though the house was very still, the little man drew his long knife and read the motto scratched on the blade before he climbed the stairs. "Non ti fidar a me se il cor ti manca."
Mozart holds his own by the famous finale to Don Giovanni; Marcello, by his psalm, Coeli enarrant gloriam Dei; Cimarosa, by the air Pria che spunti; Beethoven by his C minor symphony; Pergolesi, by his Stabat Mater; Rossini will live by Mi manca la voce.
This is what is to be examined, and by that you are to judge of the vast differences betwixt man and man. Is he: "Sapiens, sibique imperiosus, Quern neque pauperies, neque mors, neque vincula terrent; Responsare cupidinibus, contemnere honores Fortis; et in seipso totus teres atque rotundus, Externi ne quid valeat per laeve morari; In quem manca ruit semper fortuna?"
"Che, Nina mia," he cried; "tu stai cca a Londra! chesta mo, chi su credeva! e senza manca scriverme nu viers' e lettere Nina! mi pare nu suonno! She interrupted him; she came forward, smiling and the parting of the pretty lips showed a sunny gleam of teeth; she held up her two hands, palm outwards, as if she would shut away from herself that old, familiar Neapolitanese.
"And now comes the most striking movement in the score: the duet between Osiride and Elcia in the subterranean chamber where he has hidden her to keep her from the departing Israelites, and to fly with her himself from Egypt. The lovers are then intruded on by Aaron, who has been to warn Amalthea, and we get the grandest of all quartettes: Mi manca la voce, mi sento morire.
She answered politely that she had no idea, and returned to her mission. "But guess!" he persisted, clapping the balustrade between his hands. She suggested, with gentle sarcasm, that perhaps he had gone to Poggibonsi to find something to do. He intimated that it was not as important as all that. Something to do an almost hopeless quest! "E manca questo!"
I supposed he wanted my ticket, but nothing of the kind. After looking all round the compartment with an air of disinterested curiosity, he heaved a sigh and remarked pleasantly to me, "Non manca niente" "Nothing is amiss." Five minutes more and we steamed away. The railway ascended a long valley, that of the Esaro, where along the deep watercourse trickled a scarce perceptible stream.
When this was over, the Princess had to take part in the famous quartette, Mi manca la voce, which was sung by her with Tinti, with the famous tenor Genovese, and with a well-known Italian Prince then in exile, whose voice, if he had not been a Prince, would have made him one of the Princes of Art. "Take that seat," said Francesca to Rodolphe, pointing to her own chair. "Oime!
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