weeks at Hanwell, among the
insane, could all the more appreciate the remarkable dramatic talent his
late housekeeper displayed in the part of Nina. Even Bricheteau, though
annoyed at Sallenauve's determination to be present, was so carried
away by the power of the singer that he said to his companion rather
imprudently,--

"Politics have no triumphs as that. Art alone is deity--"

"And Luigia is its prophet!" added Sallenauve.

Never, perhaps, had the Italian opera-house in London presented a more
brilliant sight; the whole audience was in a transport of enthusiasm,
and bouquets fairly rained upon the stage.

As they left the theatre, Bricheteau looked at his watch; it was a
quarter to eleven; they had thus ample time to take the steamer leaving,
as the tide served, at midnight. But when the organist turned to make
this remark to Sallenauve, who was behind him, he saw nothing of his
man; the deputy had vanished!

Ten minutes later the maid of the Signora Luigia entered her mistress's
dressing-room, which was filled with distinguished Englishmen presented
by Sir Francis Drake to the new star, and gave her a card. On reading
the name the prima donna turned pale and whispered a few words to the
waiting-woman; then she seemed so anxious to be rid of the crowd who
were pressing round her that her budding adorers were inclined to be
angry. But a great singer has rare privileges, and the fatigue of the
part into which the _diva_ had just put so much soul seemed so good
an excuse for her sulkiness that her court dispersed without much
murmuring.

Left alone, the signora rapidly resumed her usual dress, and the
directors' carriage took her back to the hotel where she had stayed
since arriving in London. On entering her salon she found Sallenauve,
who had preceded her.

"You in London, monsieur!" she said; "it is like a dream!"

"Especially to me," replied Sallenauve, "who find you here, after
searching hopelessly for you in Paris--"

"Did you take that pains?--why?"

"You left me in so strange a manner, and your nature is so rash,
you knew so little of Paris, and so many dangers might threaten your
inexperience, that I feared for you."

"Suppose harm did happen to me; I was neither your wife, nor your
sister, nor your mistress; I was only your--"

"I thought," said Sallenauve, hastily, "that you were my friend."

"I was--under obligation to you," she replied. "I saw that I was
becoming an embarrassment in your