But now this paradise had passed into the possession of a charming woman and admirable artiste. This hotel belonged to the beautiful _Felina_, the Italian queen of song, who had deigned to descend from a throne to be the Duchess of Palma. The lofty brow which had borne so proudly the diadem of Semiramis and Junia, wore now a duchess's coronet. This was a great self-deprecation; for Europe contained a thousand duchesses, and but one _Felina_. Worse still, many duchesses would not recognize La Felina as one of the number. She was a duchess by chance; a duchess not by the grace of God, but by the grace of talent and beauty. Observe, too, that this version was the most favorable, the most amiable and polite. It was the one adopted by the intelligent, philosophic and sensible duchesses of the empire. The true duchesses, those of other days, who could not understand how any one could wear a ducal coronet without having at least three centuries of nobility, made use of all the grape of their artillery to annihilate the _singing woman_. It was whispered, but loudly enough to be heard by half a dozen persons, that La Felina, arming herself with that rigidity she kept for the Duke of Palma alone, displaying all her charms, and envying the title and fortune of the noble Neapolitan, had refused to surrender her heart without her hand;--that the poor Duke, entwined in the nets of this modern Circe, wearied of the many love-scrapes which he had undergone, made up his mind, as he could not become a lover, to become a husband. This delightful theme was so decorated by the rich imaginations of the ladies of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, that it could scarcely be recognized beneath the inlaying of the rich anecdotes to which it gave occasion; but which lacked only three essentials of merit--good sense, justice, and truth. As far as relates to good sense, we will say that the Duchess of Palma was far richer than her husband. Her talent had long procured her a brilliant income; and to renounce the stage, at the height of her reputation and glory, when every note she uttered was worth a doubloon, was to reject vast wealth, the source of which was her voice and talent. Good sense would not justify the reproach of cupidity; truth and justice would equally have rejected the charge.