r singing master was struck with the beauty of his pupil. As a tenor,
Signor Boldini had had his hour of success back in the days of the
_Statuto_, when Victor Emmanuel was still king of Piedmont and the
Austrians were in Milan. Convinced that he could rise no higher, he had
come to earth, stepping aside to let those behind him pass on, turning
his stage experience to the advantage of a large class of girl-students
whom he fondled with an affectionate, fatherly kindliness. His white
goatee would quiver with admiring enthusiasm, as, playfully, lightly, he
would touch his fingers to those virgin throats, which, as he said,
were his "property." "All for art, and art for all!" And this motto, the
ideal of his life, he called it, had quite endeared him to Doctor
Moreno.

"That fellow Boldini could not be fonder of my Leonora if she were his
own daughter," the Doctor would say every time the _maestro_ praised the
beauty and the talent of his pupil and prophesied great triumphs for
her.

And Leonora went on with her lessons, accepting the light, the playful,
the innocent caresses of the old singer; until one afternoon, in the
midst of a romanza, there was a hateful scene: the _maestro_, despite
her horrified struggling, claimed a feudal right--the first fruits of
her initiation into theatrical life.

Through fear of her father Leonora kept silent. What might he not do on
finding his blind confidence in the _maestro_ so betrayed? She sank into
resigned passivity at last, and continued to visit Boldini's house
daily, learning ultimately to accept, as a matter of professional
course, the repulsive flattery of refined vice.

Poor Leonora entered on a life of wrong through the open door, learning,
at a single stroke, all the turpitude acquired by that shrivelled
_maestro_ during his long career back-stage. Boldini would have kept her
a pupil forever. He could never find her just well enough prepared to
make her debut. But hardly any money was coming from Spain now. Poor
dona Pepa had sold everything her brother owned and a good deal of her
own land besides. Only at the cost of painful stinting could she send
him anything at all. The Doctor, through connections with itinerant
directors and impresarios _a l'aventure_, "launched" his daughter
finally. Leonora began to sing in the small theatres of the Milan
district--two or three night engagements at country fairs. Such
companies were formed at random in the Gallery, on the very d