The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1897-03-17

1
| whose plump form considerably overfowed
began to understand the oolonel's eager
ness to give me his seat Butanyhow, such
as 1t was, 1t commanded good view of the
prima donna of the evening The three
blows, the signal to begin, were struck.
Some one said, flush, hush'' and a gen.
tleman appeared with artifcially curly
hair, low necked collar, and the air of a
masher. He bowed gravely, then deposit
ed score on the music rack. This DONE
he dropped on to the piano stool, eased his
collar, pulled down his cuffs, then, with
eyes upturned to- heaven, struck a few
chords intermingled with complicated
scales, which were intended to say to the
audience: "You see, am merely an ac-
cofnpanist this evening, but l could dazzle
you If liked. 1t is pure modesty on my
part"
AT this moment Vittoria made her en-
trance and was greeted with three rounds
Of applause, to which she responded by q
rather naughty courtesy. Then she went
to the piano and began the great aria from
the second act Of "Rigoletto." The cry OF
the wounded heart, the agony Of love be-
trayed, the tears Of the poor girl who finds
she has been deceived by her royal lover,
all these were rendered with marvellous
passion. 1t seemed like a succession Of
sobs rising In crescendo until the last
great final cry which ends this admirable
piece of music. The women cried; the
men twisted their mustaches When 1t
was ended, there was thunder Of applause
which lasted many minutes. The women
threw her their bouquets, the men the
flowers from their buttonholes There
was an indescribable clamor.
But she, more moved by the music she
had just sung than by the enthusiasm 1t
had provoked, little by little regained her
self possession. Her hostess rushed to her
and kissed her effusivley.
My dear" she said, yours Is a very
wonderful talentI"
"Mademoiselle," said bald old gentle
man, profting by the opportunity to hold
both her hands, never since Malibran
have enjoyed pleasure equal to that of
this evening. You owe yourself to the
stage, mademoisele. know what am
saying-you are great artist. Tomor-
row shall SEQ the manager Of Les Ital-
iens.''
"Why of Les Italiens?" retorted another
much decorated gentleman. "The great
est French stage claims her. Mademoi
selle, you may look forward to being soon
sent for by the manager of the Grand
Opera"
What an admirable organp'
And what dramatic feeling!"
"Superb, splendid, wonderful
Poor Trajonska, amid the deluge of
flowers and compliments, did not know
which to listen to. 1t was real triumph.
At the supper which followed tho Coun-
tess Foricelli made her sit opposite to her,
and all the guests drank the most enthusi-
astic toasts to her honor.
To the future starv'
ITO Vittoria Trajonska To her bril-
liant destiny!'
"Well," said leaning toward her, "a
splendid career is open to you. Tomor-
row all Paris will applaud your name.
Will the tree on which you are to sing seem
beautiful enough?'
"Who can tell?" she answered
Two years went by, and heard no more
of the singer. She had doubtless contract
cd some excellent engagement in Russia,
America or Italy, and expected to see her
return to Paris some day after having ex-
hausted success and laurels elsewhere
Last spring went to London for the
season. One evening, as was on my way
to Her Majesty opera, where it happened
that "Rigoletto'' was to be given, my
thoughts went back to that evening at the
Countess Foricelli's, and crowd of mem
cries rushed upon me. l recalled the wild
applause, the flowers the toasts. 81 won
der what has become Of herp' I said to my
self as walked through the noisy crowd
that always fills Oxford street The han
SONS were going rapidly by with their
bright lights and their brass trimmings
The omnibuses passed noisily. The con-
ductors, standing on the steps and hang !
ing ON by n leather strap, summoned their !
Passengers with voice and gesture. Sand,
witch men came down the street carrying |
in gigantic letters on their shoulders the |
names of tho plays that were running at
the time. Here and there stiff, notion
less policeman gave the crowd glance of
kindly protection. Suddenly l started.
At the head of Trafalgar square, in the
light of street lamp, saw Vittoria Ira
jonska go by.
She was all in black and very plainly
dressed. She looked older and preoccu-
pied, but still twas undoubtedly she. The
people nudged each other and pointed her
out as she passed. Evidently the crowd
knew her already. She must be great
celebrity. Who could tell? Perhaps it was
she was about to hear in 'Rigoletto" at
Her Majesty Opera.
Iquickened my steps and prepared to
address her, when all at once l saw her
stop. She signed to man whom l had
lot before noticed, and who was walking
n the roadway near the curb dragging
,andcart, in which was piano. right in
he middle of Oxford street. The crowd
It once formed a circle, as though for q
light to which 1t was quite accustomed,
md the policemen took measures to leave
passage for vehicles on each side of the
mot Of people. acknowledge that was
greatly puzzled. Vittora pushed through
he crowd, then with the same slow, ma
estic step with which she had presented
erself on the countess platform she went
0 the piano, seated herself on a little camp
tool covered with IN old piece of worsted
FORK and began to sing in the open street.
And while she sang tho cabs rolled by
t right and left of her, the omnibus driv-
rs cracked their whips as they passed, the
whole great city kept up its usual clamor
round the singer, and all this time Wit
oria sang with the full strength of her
DICE the last aria of Faust"
Anges purs, anges radieux,
Porter mon anne au sein des cieux!
When it was ended, the man took off his
Up, passed it around among the crowd
nd gathered an ample harvest Of coppers.
hen he reloaded the camp stool and piano
! the handcart, and they started off, to
OPP again a couple of hundred PAGES far.
Ter on.
She suddenly caught sight of me in the
owd and without any feeling of false |
anne came straight toward me.
"Well, " she said, you were right There =
Q some poor birds which must sing to i
70. Translated From the French For I
lort Stories. !