Apropos of this first performance I will mention the baritone Mendioroz and Signorina Mecocci who took part in it. Such goings about became very frequent, for scarcely had Hartmann and I got back to Paris than we had to start off again for Rome where _Il Re di Lahore_ had the honor of a first performance on March 21, 1879. Here I had still more remarkable artists: the tenor Barbaccini, the baritone Kashmann, both singers of great merit; then Signorina Mariani, an admirable singer and tragedienne, and her younger sister who was equally charming. M. Giacovacci, the director at the Apollo, was a strange old fellow, very amusing and gay, especially when he recalled the first performance of _The Barber of Seville_ at the Argentine Theater in the days of his youth. He drew a most interesting picture of the young Rossini and his vivacity and charm. To have written _The Barber of Seville_ and _William Tell_ is indeed a most striking evidence of wit personified and also of a keen mind. I profited by my stay in Rome to revisit my dear Villa Medici. It amused me to reappear there as an author ... how shall I say it? Well (and so much the worse) let us say, an enthusiastically applauded author. I stopped at the Hotel de Rome, opposite the San Carlo, on the Corso. The morning after the first performance, they brought a note to my rooms--I was hardly awake, for we had come in very late--which bore these words: "The next time you stay at a hotel, let me know beforehand, for I haven't slept all night with all their serenading and toasting you! What a row! But I am pleased for your sake. "Your old friend, "DU LOCLE." Du Locle! How could it be he! But there he was--my conductor at the birth of _Don César de Bazan_. I hastened to embrace him. The morning of March 21 brought hours of magical delight and alluring charm. I count them as among the best that I remember. I had obtained an audience with the newly enthroned Pope Leo XIII. The grand salon where I was introduced was preceded by a long antechamber. Those who had been admitted like myself were kneeling in a row on each side of the room. The Pope blessed the faithful with his right hand and spoke a few words to them. His chamberlain told him who I was and why I had come to Rome, and the Sovereign Pontiff added to his benediction words of good wishes for my art. Leo XIII combined an unusual dignity with a simplicity which reminded me forcibly of Pius IX.