n in Babilonia." Alboni glided from the side and walked slowly
to the footlights. Let an eye-witness complete the story: "There was a
sudden pause," says one who was present; "a feather might almost have
been heard to move. The orchestra, the symphony finished, refrained from
proceeding, as though to give time for the enthusiastic reception which
was Alboni's right, and which it was natural to suppose Alboni would
receive. But you may imagine my surprise and the feelings of the
renowned contralto when not a hand or a voice was raised to acknowledge
her! I could see Alboni tremble, but it was only for an instant. What
was the reason of this unanimous disdain or this unanimous doubt? call
it what you will. She might perhaps guess, but she did not suffer it
to perplex her for more than a few moments. Throwing aside the extreme
diffidence that marked her _entree_, and the perturbation that resulted
from the frigidity of the spectators, she wound herself up to the
condition of fearless independence for which she is constitutionally and
morally remarkable, and with a look of superb indifference and conscious
power she commenced the opening of her aria. In one minute the crowd,
that but an instant before seemed to disdain her, was at her feet! The
effect of those luscious tones had never yet failed to touch the heart
and rouse the ardor of an audience, educated or uneducated." Alboni's
triumph was instantaneous and complete; it was the greater from the
moment of anxious uncertainty that preceded it, and made the certainty
which succeeded more welcome and delightful. From this instant to the
end of the opera, Alboni's success grew into a triumph. During the first
act she was twice recalled; during the second act, thrice; and she was
encored in the air "In si barbara," which she delivered with pathos, and
in the cabaletta of the second duet with _Semiramide_. She followed
in "La Cenerentola," and it may easily he fancied that her hearers
compensated in boisterous warmth of reception for the phlegmatic
indifference shown on the first night.

The English engagement of Mlle. Alboni the following year at Covent
Garden was at a salary of four thousand pounds, and the popularity she
had accomplished in England made her one of the most attractive features
of the operatic season. Her delicious singing and utter freedom from
aught that savored of mannerism or affectation made her power of
captivation complete in spite of her lack of drama