as easy to distinguish that it was
Krespel who was playing. I joined the little crowd assembled outside
the house myself, to listen to the wonderful concert, and I can assure
you that the greatest prima-donnas I have ever heard were poor
every-day performers compared to the lady we heard that night. I _never_
heard any one sing with such marvellously touching expression, and
such absolute finish of execution; never had had any idea of such
long-sustained notes, such nightingale roulades, such crescendoes and
diminuendoes, such swellings to an organ-like _forte_, such dyings down
to the most imperceptible whisper. There was not a soul in all the
crowd able to resist the magic spell of this wonderful singing; and
when she stopped, you heard nothing but sighs breaking the silence. It
was probably about midnight, when, all at once we heard Krespel talking
loudly and excitedly; another male voice, to judge by the tone of it,
bitterly reproaching him about something, and a woman intervening as
best she could tearfully, in broken phrases. Krespel screamed louder
and louder, till at last he broke into that horrible _singing_ tone
which you know. A loud shriek from the lady interrupted him: then all
was as still as death; and suddenly steps came rapidly down the stairs,
and a young man came out, sobbing, and, jumping into a carriage which
was standing near, drove rapidly away.

"'The next day Krespel appeared quite in his ordinary condition, as if
nothing had happened, and no one had the courage to allude to the
events of the previous night; but the housekeeper said Krespel had
brought home a most beautiful lady, quite young; that he called her
Antonia, and that it was she who sung so splendidly; and that a young
gentleman had also come, who seemed to be deeply attached to Antonia,
and, as she supposed, was engaged to her; but that he had had to go
away, because Krespel had insisted on it. What Antonia's precise
position with respect to Krespel is, remains a mystery; at all events
he treats her in the most tyrannical style. He watches her as a cat
does a mouse, or as Dr. Bartolo, in _Il Barbiere_, does his niece. She
scarcely dares to look out of the window. On the rare occasions when he
can be prevailed upon to take her into society, he watches her with
Argus-eyes, and won't suffer a note of music to be heard, far less that
_she_ shall sing; neither will he now allow her to sing in his own
house; so that, since that celebrated