The General then sent a company of grenadiers to surround Paer's house; but the composer had heard of what had befallen the manager, and, foreseeing his own probable fate, if he remained openly in Udine, had concealed himself, and spread a report that he was in the country. Lancers and hussars were dispatched in search of him, but naturally without effect. In the supposed absence of Paer, the army was obliged to accept Olivieri; and when six or seven representations of the popular opera had taken place and the military public had become accustomed to Olivieri's performance of the part of "Pippo," Paer came forth from his hiding place and suffered no more from the warlike dilettanti-ism of Bernadotte. [Sidenote: MADAME FODOR AND THE COW.] There would be no end to my anecdotes if I were to attempt to give a complete list of all those in which musicians and singers have been made to figure in connection with all sorts of events during the last great continental war. The great vocalists, and many of the great composers of the day, continued to travel about from city to city, and from court to court, as though Europe were still in a state of profound peace. Sometimes, as happened once to Paer, and was nearly happening to him a second time, they were taken prisoners; or they found themselves shut up in a besieged town; and a great _cantatrice_, Madame Fodor, who chanced to be engaged at the Hamburg opera when Hamburg was invested, was actually the cause of a _sortie_ being made in her favour. On one occasion, while she was singing, the audience was disturbed by a cannon ball coming through the roof of the theatre and taking its place in the gallery; but the performances continued nevertheless, and the officers and soldiers of the garrison continued to be delighted with their favourite vocalist. Madame Fodor, however, on her side, was beginning to get tired of her position; not that she cared much about the bombardment which was renewed from time to time, but because the supply of milk had failed, cows and oxen having been alike slaughtered for the sustenance of the beleaguered garrison. Without milk, Madame Fodor was scarcely able to sing; at least, she had so accustomed herself to drink it every evening during the intervals of performance, that she found it inconvenient and painful to do without it. Hearing in what a painful situation their beloved vocalist found herself, the French army gallantly resolved to remedy it without delay. The next evening a _sortie_ was effected, and a cow brought back in triumph. This cow was kept in the property and painting room in the theatre, above the stage, and was lowered like a drop scene, to be milked whenever Madame Fodor was thirsty. So, at least, says the operatic anecdote on the subject, though it would perhaps have been a more convenient proceeding to have sent some trustworthy person to perform the milking operation up stairs. In any case, the cow was kept carefully shut up and under guard.