This really angelic strain showed what treasures lay hidden in that stupendous opera, which, however, would never find comprehension so long as the musician persisted in trying to explain it in his present demented state. His wife and the Count were equally divided between the music and their surprise at this hundred-voiced instrument, inside which a stranger might have fancied an invisible chorus of girls were hidden, so closely did some of the tones resemble the human voice; and they dared not express their ideas by a look or a word. Marianna’s face was lighted up by a radiant beam of hope which revived the glories of her youth. This renascence of beauty, co-existent with the luminous glow of her husband’s genius, cast a shade of regret on the Count’s exquisite pleasure in this mysterious hour. “You are our good genius!” whispered Marianna. “I am tempted to believe that you actually inspire him; for I, who never am away from him, have never heard anything like this.” “And Kadijah’s farewell!” cried Gambara, who sang the _cavatina_ which he had described the day before as sublime, and which now brought tears to the eyes of the lovers, so perfectly did it express the loftiest devotion of love. “Who can have taught you such strains?” cried the Count. “The Spirit,” said Gambara. “When he appears, all is fire. I see the melodies there before me; lovely, fresh in vivid hues like flowers. They beam on me, they ring out,--and I listen. But it takes a long, long time to reproduce them.” “Some more!” said Marianna. Gambara, who could not tire, played on without effort or antics. He performed his overture with such skill, bringing out such rich and original musical effects, that the Count was quite dazzled, and at last believed in some magic like that commanded by Paganini and Liszt,--a style of execution which changes every aspect of music as an art, by giving it a poetic quality far above musical inventions. “Well, Excellenza, and can you cure him?” asked Giardini, as Andrea came out. “I shall soon find out,” replied the Count. “This man’s intellect has two windows; one is closed to the world, the other is open to the heavens. The first is music, the second is poetry. Till now he has insisted on sitting in front of the shuttered window; he must be got to the other. It was you, Giardini, who first started me on the right track, by telling me that your client’s mind was clearer after drinking a few glasses of wine.” “Yes,” cried the cook, “and I can see what your plan is.” “If it is not too late to make the thunder of poetry audible to his ears, in the midst of the harmonies of some noble music, we must put him into a condition to receive it and appreciate it. Will you help me to intoxicate Gambara, my good fellow? Will you be none the worse for it?” “What do you mean, Excellenza?” Andrea went off without answering him, laughing at the acumen still left to this cracked wit.