We had reached a point in our absurdity where, by the direction of Il Nanno, who had a sure dramatic sense, a little touch of tragic meaning was to be brought into the action. The play was suddenly to deepen into seriousness; the masqueraders were to be discovered--momentarily--for men and women, with hearts to be broke and souls to be tortured. I believe it was I who gave him the hint; for he had said to me one day at rehearsal, "Don Francis, you have tragedy in your face, a mouth of pure sorrow. That is a valuable asset for our business." May be that he had thought to use me at my best when he suffered this little shiver of serious surmise to be blown across the painted scene. The worthy little monster was pardonably proud of his conception, and explained it to me point by point. Touchy as his infirmities had left him, his vanity of author made him as tender as a green wound. He set all his hopes upon his invention; rightly rendered, he said, the whole theatre would be moved by it. It should be received with a moment of absolute silence, a sixty-seconds' silence; then, with one consent, the audience would rise en masse and cheer the actor--myself--and the poet--himself. Admiring the thought, feeling the force of it, I promised him that he might depend upon me. His point was this. At a certain stage in the play, Brighella, the country clown, observes his pretended inamorata, the sham contessa, in the embrace of the pretended marchese, Truffaldino, who by his lies and flatteries has ensnared the heart of Colombina. Now Colombina is the beloved sister of Brighella; and the doubt is to dawn upon him that possibly his wonderful contessa and his sister's imposing marchese are no better than they should be. Why is she in the arms of the marchese? Are these perhaps the customs of the world of fashion? Punchinello, the family servant, suggests that the marchese and contessa may be brother and sister. "O Dio, no!" cries poor Brighella. "I know what brothers and sisters do. I love Colombina and she me, but we don't kiss and hug in a corner. That is what the contessa taught me to do--I thought it very beautiful. It was our secret, do you see? But she seems to have taught the marchese--and it is a secret no more, and not beautiful at all." He begins to wonder to himself, and grows suddenly homesick under disenchantment. He has many artless, touching things to say concerning his happiness with his sister in his own country, there far away on the lonely Adriatic shore. I was doing my best with the part; Il Nanno, as Punchinello, was at my side watching and moving every turn of the dialogue; in the back of the scene were Truffaldino and the Furlana at their kissing. The audience, quick to feel the pathos, was very quiet, and gave me courage. "Go to your mistress, Brighella," says Punchinello; "reproach her, pull her away."