countenance. "Well, yes; she is a good girl—one cannot complain; but she scarcely pays for her keep; and we poor people have to think of that."
"Not pay for her keep! Woman! is not a voice like hers payment enough for the keep of a whole regiment? Does not your heart leap into your mouth when you hear her sing?"
"But, caro signor mio," said old Marta, laughing a little (for she began to suspect that her interlocutor was not quite right in his head), "she is one of those who must work and not sing. One may sing all day long, like a cicala, but that will not bring in money."
"That is precisely where you are mistaken, my good madam; singing will sometimes bring in money enough to buy up the whole of Sorrento. Did you never hear of Alboni, and Grisi, and Malibran?"
No; Marta was unacquainted with any of these names.
"Well, they were ladies who made more money by singing one night at the opera than I suppose you would by washing in a couple of years. What do you think of that?"
"It is extraordinary," said Marta, with a sigh; "but surely, eccellenza, you do not mean that our Annunziata could do that!"
"Who knows? I should be better able to tell you if you would permit me to see her and hear her sing for a few minutes."
"Annunziata!" shrieked the old woman in her shrill nasal accents, "leave the washing, and come here. Here is a gentleman who wishes to speak to you."
Annunziata made her appearance, smiling and surprised, and was greeted with much cordiality by Signor Sassi. Like the generality of Italians, she was wholly free from shyness, and though somewhat taken aback by the visitor's request, she made no difficulty about obliging him with a specimen of her musical capabilities. She sang him first one song, then another, and finally, repressing a strong inclination to burst out laughing, consented, for the first time in her life, to be put through her scales. Higher and higher rose the clear, full, true notes till Signor Sassi could no longer contain his delight. He seized Annunziata by both hands, and went near to embracing her in his exultation. "Signorina," he exclaimed, "the world is open to you! A little work—a little perseverance—and everything you touch will turn to gold!" Then he twirled round, and faced the older woman—" And now, signora," he said, "for a few words with you. I am Signor Sassi—you may perhaps have heard me spoken of?"
But Marta was as ignorant of the fame of Signor Sassi as she had admitted herself to be of Grisi and Alboni. "Hum!" grunted the old gentleman; "I'm not altogether obscure, for all that, ft chance ever takes you to Paris, London, or Vienna, you will find that Alessandro Sassi, the singing-master, is pretty well known in all those places. Not that I am a singingmaster now,—I made money enough, years ago, to keep my wife and myself in comfort, and I have no children. Music and art occupy the place of children in my affections," said the little man, drawing himself up and tapping his breast. "Now this is what I propose to you," he continued. "During the present winter, which I intend to pass at Sorrento, the signorina shall come to me for singing lessons twice a day—two hours in the morning, one in the afternoon. In the spring I take her, under the care of my wife, to Paris, where we reside; I continue her instruction there, and in the autumn I hope to introduce her to the public. In three years or two years perhaps—who can say?—she will be earning, if I am not mistaken, a considerable salary."
"But, signore," gasped Marta, rather bewildered by the rapidity with which this programme was announced, "who is to pay you for all this?"
Sassi reddened a little. "I do not want money," he answered, in a slightly injured tone; "but you may feel at ease about incurring any obligation from me. The signorina shall repay me all I have spent upon her as soon as she is in a position to do so. And there is another thing. You will want some one to replace her in helping you with your work. I will pay what is necessary to secure you an assistant; and that also can be returned to me in due time. Now, what do you say? Are you contented?"
What could Marta say but that she accepted so liberal an offer with willingness and gratitude, and that Annunziata should begin her lessons as soon as the gentleman pleased?" But what if it turns out a mistake, after all," she suggested, "and all this expense leads to nothing?"
"Then there will be no harm done," replied Sassi, who had now quite recovered his good-humour. "I am well enough off to afford myself a caprice—it will not be the first time." And so Annunziata's destiny was settled.
Luigi Ratta, passing down towards the
