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Updated: May 28, 2025
Major Pierce was a splendid Villikins, and as Dinah I received enough applause to satisfy anyone, but the curtain remained down, motionless and unresponsive, just because I happened to be the wife of the stage manager! The prison scene and Miserere from Il Trovatore were beautiful. Sergeant Mann instructed each one of the singers, and the result was far beyond our expectations.
When they had finished, Famos, the barytone, murmured something to Johnny; who replied, "Sure we can sing 'Trovatore. We have no alto, but all the girls can sing alto and make some noise." The women laughed. Mexican women of the poorer class do not sing like the men. Perhaps they are too indolent.
The Padre, with ears critically deaf, and with smiling, unconvinced eyes, was shaking his head, while young Gaston sang Trovatore at him, and beat upon the table with a fork. "Come and convert me, then," said Padre Ignacio, and he led the way. "Donizetti I have always admitted. There, at least, is refinement. If the world has taken to this Verdi, with his street-band music But there, now!
"I believe you are all great Wagnerites in Boston?" "I'm a very bad Bostonian, Mrs. Mandel. I suspect myself of preferring Verdi," March answered. Miss Dryfoos looked down at her fan again, and said, "I like 'Trovatore' the best." "It's an opera I never get tired of," said March, and Mrs. March and Mrs. Mandel exchanged a smile of compassion for his simplicity.
"I believe you are all great Wagnerites in Boston?" "I'm a very bad Bostonian, Mrs. Mandel. I suspect myself of preferring Verdi," March answered. Miss Dryfoos looked down at her fan again, and said, "I like 'Trovatore' the best." "It's an opera I never get tired of," said March, and Mrs. March and Mrs: Mandel exchanged a smile of compassion for his simplicity.
"Well, we have come to better things than the old Trovatore at any rate, Aunt Georgie?" I queried, with a well meant effort at jocularity. Her lip quivered and she hastily put her handkerchief up to her mouth. From behind it she murmured, "And you have been hearing this ever since you left me, Clark?" Her question was the gentlest and saddest of reproaches.
The man with the tambourine sallied forth. Out of the momentary silence came the indistinct tinkle of the piano in the barge beyond; some one over there was bellowing the toreador's song. This died away amid a faint patter of applause. How clear all the sounds were! thought Merrihew. The tenor of the San Marco troupe rose with the prima donna. It was Il Trovatore this time; a bit noisy.
I will now render a selection from 'Il Trovatore. I will sing the imprisoned lover's song " "Not if I have anything to say about it," growled Reddy. "Suit yourself, suit yourself," declared Hippy, shrugging his shoulders. "You boys will be sorry if you don't let me sing, though." "Is that a threat?" inquired Tom Gray with pretended belligerence. "A threat?" repeated Hippy. "No, it is a fact.
"I wish you would come into the music-room and sing to me," said Tom, struck with a bright idea. "Nonsense, you don't care about music?" "Indeed I do; your voice is like an angel's." "You couldn't tell whether I was singing something from Trovatore or Yankee Doodle?" replied Elsie.
So Dante belongs to this garbage man, not because he is Italian, but because he sincerely loves the Divina Commedia. A waiter, in Il Trovatore, a rarely honest man, acknowledged to me that he could not read Dante, and that every time he tried he got mad and threw the book away. Dante belongs to the literary elect of all nations, Dante belongs to the great internationale of the immortals.
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