“I have a notion the young people are here.” She introduced him into the music-room. Miss Georgiana Falconer, at the piano-forte, with performers, composers, masters, and young ladies, all with music-books round her, sat high in consultation, which Alfred’s appearance interrupted--a faint struggle to be civil--an insipid question or two was addressed to him. “Fond of music, Mr. Percy? Captain Percy, I think, likes music? You expect Captain Percy home soon?” Scarcely listening to his answers, the young ladies soon resumed their own conversation, forgot his existence, and went on eagerly with their own affairs. As they turned over their music-books, Alfred, for some minutes, heard only the names of La Tour, Winter, Von Esch, Lanza, Portogallo, Mortellari, Guglielmi, Sacchini, Sarti, Paisiello, pronounced by male and female voices in various tones of ecstasy and of execration. Then there was an eager search for certain favourite duets, trios, and sets of _cavatinas_. Next he heard, in rapid succession, the names of Tenducci, Pachierotti, Marchesi, Viganoni, Braham, Gabrielli, Mara, Banti, Grassini, Billington, Catalani. Imagine our young barrister’s sense of his profound ignorance, whilst he heard the merits of all dead and living composers, singers, and masters, decided upon by the Miss Falconers. By degrees he began to see a little through the palpable obscure, by which he had at first felt himself surrounded: he discerned that he was in a committee of the particular friends of the Miss Falconers, who were settling what they should sing and play. All, of course, were flattering the Miss Falconers, and abusing their absent friends, those especially who were expected to bear a part in this concert; for instance--“Those two eternal Miss Byngs, with voices, like cracked bells, and with their old-fashioned music, Handel, Corelli, and Pergolese, horrid!--And odious little Miss Crotch, who has science but no taste, execution but no expression!” Here they talked a vast deal about expression. Alfred did not understand them, and doubted whether they understood themselves. “Then her voice! how people can call it fine!--powerful, if you will--but overpowering! For my part, I can’t stand it, can you?--Every body knows an artificial shake, when good, is far superior to a natural shake. As to the Miss Barhams, the eldest has no more ear than the table, and the youngest such a thread of a voice!” “But, mamma,” interrupted Miss Georgiana Falconer, “are the Miss La Grandes to be here to-night?” “Certainly, my dear--you know I could not avoid asking the Miss La Grandes.” “Then, positively,” cried Miss Georgiana, her whole face changing, and ill-humour swelling in every feature, “then, positively, ma’am, I can’t and won’t sing a note!” “Why, my dear love,” said Mrs. Falconer, “surely you don’t pretend to be afraid of the Miss La Grandes?” “You!” cried one of the chorus of flatterers--“You! to whom the La Grandes are no more to be compared--”