f an _affaire de coeur_, which
would go further in the minds of Frenchmen than any other justification
of capricious courses. Her furniture and the money at her banker's were
seized as security for the forfeit of four thousand pounds stipulated by
her contract in case of breach of engagement, and her private papers and
letters were opened and read.

About a month after her sudden flight, M. Fould received a letter from
the errant _diva_, in which she demanded permission to return and
fill her contract. M. Fould consented, and accepted her plea of "a
misunderstanding," but the public were not so easily placated, and
when she appeared on the stage as _Valentine_ the audience hissed her
violently. Sophie was not a whit daunted, but, confident in her power to
charm, put all the fullness of her powers into her performance, and she
soon had the satisfaction of learning by the enthusiasm of the plaudits
that the Parisians had forgiven their favorite.

Sophie Cruvelli continued on the stage till 1855, and, although her
faults of violence and exaggeration continued to call out severe
criticism, she disarmed even the attacks of her enemies by the
unquestionable vigor of her genius as well as by the magnificence of a
voice which had never been surpassed in native excellence, though many
had been far greater in the art of vocalization. Her last performance,
and perhaps one of the grandest efforts of her life, was the character
of _Helene_ in Verdi's "Les Vepres Siciliennes," the active principal
parts having been taken by Bonnehee, Gueymard, and Obin. The production
of the work was on a splendid scale, and the opera a great success. "The
audience was electrified by the tones of her magnificent voice, which
realized with equal effect those high inspirations that demand passion,
force, and impulse, and those tender passages that require delicacy,
taste, and a thorough knowledge of the art of singing. No one could
reproach Mlle. Cruvelli with exaggeration, so well did she know how
to restrain her ardent nature." "Cruvelli is the Rachel of the Grand
Opera!" exclaimed a French critic. From these estimates it may be
supposed that, just as she was on the eve of passing out of the
profession in which she had already achieved such a splendid place at
the age of twenty-five, a great future, to which hardly any limits could
be set, was opening the most fascinating inducements to her. The faults
which had marred the full blaze of her genius h