But if Lelio was still able to fill the post of _leading man_ on the boards of La Fenice and La Scala, without offending good taste or the probabilities; if his still beautiful voice and his great talent maintained him in the first rank of Italian artists; if his abundant locks, of a beautiful pearl-gray, and his great black eye, still full of fire, continued to attract the glances of the gentler sex, in salons as well as upon the stage, it is none the less true that Lelio was a prudent man, most reserved and grave on occasion. A fact that will seem strange to us is that, with all the charms which heaven had bestowed upon him, with the brilliant triumphs of his honorable career, he was not and had never been a libertine. He had, it was said, inspired great passions; but whether because he had never shared them, or because he had buried his romantic experiences in the oblivion of a generous conscience, no one could say what the result had been of any of those mysterious episodes in his life. The fact was that he had never compromised any woman. The wealthiest and most illustrious houses of Italy and Germany welcomed him cordially; he had never introduced scandal or discord into any one of them. Everywhere he enjoyed the reputation of a loyal, good-hearted man, whose virtue was beyond reproach. To us artists, too, his friends and companions, he was the best and most lovable of men. But that serene cheerfulness, that kindly charm which characterized him in his intercourse with society, did not altogether conceal from us a background of melancholy and the existence of a secret sorrow of long standing. One evening, after supper, as we were smoking under our fragrant arbor at Sainte-Marguerite, Abbé Panorio talked to us of himself, and described the poetic impulses and heroic combats of his own heart with a touching candor worthy of all respect. Lelio, led on by his example and infected by the generally effusive spirit of the party, pressed also in some degree by the abbé's questions and Beppa's glances, confessed to us at last that his art was not the only noble passion he had known. "_Ed io anchè_!" he exclaimed, with a sigh; "I too have loved, and fought, and triumphed!" "Had you taken a vow of chastity, pray, as he had?" queried Beppa, with a smile, touching the abbé's arm with the end of her black fan. "I never took any vow," replied Lelio; "but I have always been irresistibly guided by a natural feeling of justice and truth. I have never understood how one could be truly happy for a single day while compromising another person's future. I will tell you, if you please, the story of two periods of my life in which love played the leading rôle, and you will understand that it cost me a little something to be, I do not say a hero, but a man." "That is a very solemn beginning," said Beppa, "and I fear that your story will resemble a French sonata! You require a musical introduction, so wait a moment! Does this key suit you?"