"This is all her history. From that hour she disappeared. Without doubt, the new-born vestal sought the retreat of the sacred fire. "To-day she returns to the place of her birth. The words are literally true; we will hear her this evening in La Scala. "I have desired to announce this _fête_. Let no one fail to be there, for I predict it will be an event. "My task is finished. I would like to describe this cantatrice, but she belongs to no formula. It would require two to express the dualism of which her person and character bear the imprint. "She seems to have received from her parents two natures which by turns inspire her. Even now we hear her pure and original voice mount to heaven; no breath of human passion seems to agitate it. We listen enchanted, lifted far above ourselves, and share the serenity, the peace she inspires; suddenly the air changes, the color mounts to her cheeks, passion absorbs her, and she bursts out in its most marvellous tones. I could see the spectre of the old Paganini grimacing by the side of his beautiful god-child, and goading on her enchained genius." XXIV. The result was as predicted. The young cantatrice excited immense enthusiasm. The Italians are quickly roused, and never sell the evidences of their admiration. To show more than ordinary emotion, they invent unheard-of and extravagant expressions. When Paganina could withdraw from these ovations, the night was far advanced; she took refuge in solitude. Let us follow her. It will be curious to observe in her the intoxication of applause, and see how she bore her first triumph--she who had elicited such flattering testimony of love and admiration. She wept, but not with happy emotions. "My father," she cried, "my father, you are already revenged. To punish me, you have fulfilled my desires. I wished for the clatter of applause, for the tumult of bravos. I am satisfied already. Is it for this, great God, that I have deserted thy ways? Is it for such fugitive pleasure, whose bitterness I have known before even I have tasted it? O happiness of solitude! ineffable family joys! where have you fled? "Those who have just applauded me little know the inexpressible sadness that overcame me. For a moment despair drew tears to my eyes. They thought it the triumph of my art--but I wept for thee, my father; for thee, my childhood--and the peace of the old, happy hours." André at this moment appeared. XXV. He watched her in silence--he on the threshold, and she half turning toward him proudly in her surprise. André was the first to break the silence. "Paganina," said he, "I come from the home that you have left. I found the house deserted, and I went to seek you at the tomb of your father." "Yes," she replied with bitterness, "and you find me here in the garb of a comedian. What do you wish with me?"