But whose the opera?
No cabinet intrigue ever was so secret.

Pisani came back one night from the theatre, evidently disturbed and irate.

Woe to thine ears hadst thou heard the barbiton that night! They had suspended him from his office,--they feared that the new opera, and the first debut of his daughter as prima donna, would be too much for his nerves.

And his variations, his diablerie of sirens and harpies, on such a night, made a hazard not to be contemplated without awe.

To be set aside, and on the very night that his child, whose melody was but an emanation of his own, was to perform,--set aside for some new rival: it was too much for a musician's flesh and blood.