Litchfield enquirer., 1875-08-26


 This Quintette is one of remarkable power and beauty. It is for 'rano, viola, first and second violin, and cello. It is divided into four movements: Allegro 6r5ttdnte; I's n1odG d' ana Marcid; ScheT'zO and Allegro ma non trOpp0.
 As handed the bill back to Max, he whispered to my maid, who left the room an instant, and returned with mantle on her arm.
 Come" he said, in a decided tone, ''you must go. and quickly, too, for they are already playing the overture. You can surely trust Ernestine with the watch. ing, as you will be such short distance of; my servingnman shall wait in the ar- ed."
 Then, raising me with kind force from the lounge, he wrapped the mantle around me. As we passed out, we stood for an instant at the bedroom door, looking al the invalid. The breath still came in short pats, but the truce was being kept sleep had come in between as 8 trancient mediator.
 noticed in the dim light the attenuat- ed frame, the shrunken features; the pinched nostrils, the very shadowy out lining of death. With choking throat and swelling breast looked at Max, my eyes saying what my voice could not,-
 '.I cannot go."
 Without a word of reply, he lifted me out of the apartment, and in a few mo- mtents we were sitting Tn dim corner of the concert-room, listening to the charm ing First Duet.
 The scenes followed one another rapid ly, and displayed even more powerfully than had ever noticed before the one pervading theme. Sense and inauguration became possessed with 1t: at each suc- ceeding passage the interest increased con- tinuously, until at the end the passion mounted up as on mighty wings and ccar- ried my sad heart aloft and beyond "the ordinary conditions of humanity
 The prima donna, Madame e, and Signor D., the tenor, had sad story of scandal floating about them; 1t was on everyone's lips. Madame C-- was no longer ip her first youth, but she was still very beautiful, more attractive than she had been in her younger days,-so those said who had seen her and heard her years before.
 Her young womanhood had been devot- ed to patient, honest study, which was re- warded with success, and calm, passion less prosperity. She had married bril- liantly. and left the stage, but after an ab- sence of many years had returned to 1t to aid her husband in some reverse of for tune, Her married life had been tranquil- ly happy, for she had loved with all the sweet serenity of cold, unexacting na- ture.
 But now it was whispered that this beautiful, pure woman, who had resisted like another Una, had never felt -the temptations which had environed her on the stage, and in which the cOurtly circle to which she had been raised by her husbands rank, was being strangely infiu- enced by gifted, handsome tenor singer, with whom she had been associated since her return to her professional life.
 This person was about her husbands age, year or two her senior, and unmar- ried. The infactuation, it was said, ex- isted on both sides, and the two lovers were so blinded by their strange passion me husDahd, report added, behaved with remarkable prudence and good breeding; indeed, some doubted if he noticed the affair,-for he treated not only his wife, but the reputed lover, with familiar and kind friendliness.
 The recollection of this scandal fitted over my memory as listened to the First Duet. Madame C. was a blond; she had rich, deep violet eyes, and a lovely skin: her hair, too, was a waving mass of the painters and poets golden hue. She was about middle height. and had full, person.
 "When I saw her in Paris and Vienna, twenty years ago." whispered Max, "she was too pale and slender, and the expres- sion of those brilliant eyes was as cold and still as glacier depths"
 Not so now, l thought, t,-for they fairly blazed with passionate fire, as the music weIled up on her beautiful quivering lips; indeed, the melody appeared to come from them, as much as from her mouth, and seemed to be listening with my looks as we'll as my hearing. She was not we'll, evldently,-for there was a bright red, feverish spot on either cheek, and her movements were feeble and trembling; but her voice was full of the deepest pa thos.
 ''In her best days she never sang so well" said Max, as the room rang with applause at the termination of the duo. ''Time may have taken away little full ness from her lower notes; but the touch ing tenderness which envelopes them as a purple mist hanging over a forest in au- tumn, fully compensates for the loss of youthful vigor."
 Her voice was, indeed, wonderfuI-not simply clear and flexible, but dazzling and glancing, like the lightning that plays around the horizon on hot midsummer's night; and her execution was as If the Cherub All-Knowledge and the Seraph All-Love had united their divine powers in one human form.
 In the Sextette, which followed, the tenor showed to great advantage. His voice, though no longer young, was beau tifully managed; it had an exquisite tina 6re, and on this night there was added to it rare expression and character.
 When he asked the poor trembling Lu- cia if the signature to the marriage con- tract was hers, there was 8 concentrated rage in his singing that twas fearful; and Madame C- almost covered to the floor, as he held her firmly by the wrist, for the scenes were sung in costume and with action, ,-and demanded,-
 "A me rispondi. Son tue cifre7 RispOnd :" Her affirmative was like the silvery vail of a fallen angel, Then followed the terrible lmprecation passage. He darted out the
 ''sraIedertO sia r istante 2" with such startling fury that the notes and words seemed to be forked, stinging ser pent tongues.
 The Stretta ensued, and the music-tide flowed so high and full that the fashiona- ble audience forgot all artificial conven- tionalities, and yielded themselves freely to the enobling emotions of human sym pathy. Above the whole sublime assem- blaze of sounds walled out that fearful note of the fallen cherub; and the fainting of Lucia, at the crose of the Sextette, l felt sure was not feigned one.
 As the curtain fell over the temporary stage, several gentlemen hurr1ed ;out to make inquiries about Madame C. for there seemed to be an opinion similar to mine prevailing the room. The curtain rose, and it was announced that she was too ill to sing again; but the mUrmur of regret was silenced almost immediately by the appearance of the chorus with Sig nor D., the tenor.
 They begun the Finale. Signor D. looked haggard and wan, bat very stern, and there was more of wrath than repent