"My visit seems to be unwelcome to the gentlemen?"

"Unwelcome?" repeated Salvani. "Signora, what are you thinking of? On the contrary, we were just speaking about you and wishing you were here."

"Flatterer," said La Luciola, laughing, and pointing her finger warningly at him.

"No, signora, Salvani says the truth," Ticellini said, earnestly. "We wish to ask a great favor of you."

"That is excellent. I also come to ask for a favor," replied the diva, springing up hurriedly. "You speak first, and then you shall hear what brought me to your office."

"Oh, signora," said Ticellini, crossing his hands and falling on one knee, "my fate lies in your hands."

"That sounds quite tragical! One would imagine I was Marshal Radetzky.

But are you ever going to tell me what is the matter?"

"We--I--" began Salvani, stammering.

"My dear impresario," interrupted La Luciola, laughing, "let us make short work of it. I will tell you why I came, and, in the meantime, you can collect your thoughts. Well, then, I am growing tired at La Scala; Donizetti, Bellini, and whatever other names your great composers bear, are very good fellows, but, you know, _toujours perdrix_."

"Well--and--" asked Salvani, breathlessly, as the diva paused.

"Well, I must have a new _role_ in a new opera or I shall run away,"

said La Luciola, firmly.

Both men uttered a cry of joy. Luciola looked from one to the other and finally said:

"Does my demand embarra.s.s you?"

"No, luck alone makes us dumb. We intended, signora, to ask you to-day to take a part in a new opera."

"Is it possible?" exclaimed La Luciola, clapping her hands with joy.

"Who is the composer of the new opera? Gioberto, Palmerelli, or perhaps you, Ticellini? But stay! before we go any further, I make one condition: the subject must not be tragical."

"Oh, tragic opera has long since gone out of fashion."

"Thank G.o.d, you have the same opinion as I. What I should like now would be a spectacular piece, an allegory or something like it--pretty music and bright verses."

"Oh, signora!" exclaimed Ticellini, joyfully, "I have got what you want. The new opera is called the 'Queen of Flowers.'"

"What a pretty t.i.tle!"

"Your part will be that of the daisy."

"Beautiful, beautiful!"

"Permit me to play you the first cavatina."

Ticellini hurried to the piano and began to play.

Luciola listened attentively and nodded satisfaction as Ticellini sung the verses.

"That will do," she said. "Get everything ready for the rehearsals; I shall sing the part."

She went out, and the next day the rehearsals began for the new opera, the first performance of which was to take place on the 15th of May, 1848.

CHAPTER XXIII

GREEN, WHITE AND RED

The night of the 15th of May arrived, and both Salvani and Ticellini were very nervous about the first performance of the "Queen of Flowers."

La Luciola was certainly the pet of the public, but the situation at Milan was such that it was a question whether the performance at the Scala would receive any attention. Even the day before, there had been very little call for tickets, and Salvani, who had spared no expense to mount the new opera properly, had awful dreams on the night of the 14th about deficits and bankruptcy.

At length, on the morning of the 15th, the demand became heavier, and after a few boxes had been taken, a negro appeared at the box-office about eleven o'clock, and pointed at a pack of tickets.

"Ah--your master desires a box?" asked Salvani, who did not disdain on special days to take charge of the box-office.

The negro laughed, so that the impresario could wonder at his white teeth, and shook his head, pointing once more at the tickets.

"You want two boxes, perhaps?"

Again the negro shook his head.

"Three boxes?"

"No."

"My G.o.d, are you dumb?"

An expressive look from the Nubian confirmed the insinuation. He put a roll of bank-notes on the package, and made a motion as if he wished to put the latter in his pocket.

"Do you want to buy the whole package?" asked Salvani, breathlessly.

"Yes," nodded the negro.

The impresario looked doubtingly at him, and said:

"But that is eleven boxes on the first tier, each of which costs fifty lire--"

"Yes."

"Twenty-two boxes on the third tier, at thirty-six lire; and all the boxes on the fourth tier, thirty boxes at twenty-five lire."

Again the Nubian nodded. Salvani began to reckon, and excitedly exclaimed:

"But that is impossible. Are you aware that this is a matter of 2,848 lire?"