When Lucia appeared by the fountain there was
loud applause, and cries of "Welcome to Monteriano!"
"Ridiculous babies!" said Harriet, settling down in her stall.
"Why, it is the famous hot lady of the Apennines," cried
Philip; "the one who had never, never before--"
"Ugh! Don't. She will be very vulgar. And I'm sure
it's even worse here than in the tunnel. I wish we'd never--"
Lucia began to sing, and there was a moment's silence.
She was stout and ugly; but her voice was still beautiful,
and as she sang the theatre murmured like a hive of happy
bees. All through the coloratura she was accompanied by
sighs, and its top note was drowned in a shout of universal joy.
So the opera proceeded. The singers drew inspiration
from the audience, and the two great sextettes were rendered
not unworthily. Miss Abbott fell into the spirit of the
thing. She, too, chatted and laughed and applauded and
encored, and rejoiced in the existence of beauty. As for
Philip, he forgot himself as well as his mission. He was
not even an enthusiastic visitor. For he had been in this
place always. It was his home.
Harriet, like M. Bovary on a more famous occasion, was
trying to follow the plot. Occasionally she nudged her
companions, and asked them what had become of Walter Scott.
She looked round grimly. The audience sounded drunk, and
even Caroline, who never took a drop, was swaying oddly.
Violent waves of excitement, all arising from very little,
went sweeping round the theatre.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139