"Look you, cousin, you mustn't believe what he says about Lelio," observed the signora, abruptly ceasing her convulsive laughter. "So far as the man's great beauty is concerned, I cannot contradict him for I didn't look at him; and, besides, an actor can always appear young and handsome with his paint and his false hair and moustaches. But as to his being an admirable singer and a good actor, that I deny. In the first place he sings false, in the second place he acts detestably. His declamation is too loud, his gestures commonplace, the expression of his features stiff and conventional. When he weeps, he makes wry faces; when he threatens, he roars; when he is majestic, he is tedious; and, in his best moments, when he holds himself back and doesn't speak, one might apply to him the refrain of the ballad: "'_Brutto è quanto stupido._' I am sorry to disagree with this gentleman; but my opinion is the opinion of the public! It isn't my fault that Lelio didn't have the slightest success at San Carlo, and I don't advise you to take the journey to Naples to see him, cousin." Having received this stinging lesson, for a moment I was on the verge of losing my head and picking a quarrel with the cousin to punish the signora; but the excellent youth did not give me time. "That is just like a woman," he cried, "and above all things just like one of your inconceivable whims, cousin! Not more than three days ago, you told me that Lelio was the finest actor and the most incomparable singer in all Italy. I have no doubt that you will say to-morrow just the opposite of what you say to-day, with the privilege of taking it all back again the next day." "To-morrow and the day after to-morrow and every day of my life, my dear cousin," the signora hurriedly interposed, "I will tell you that you are a fool and Lelio an idiot." "Brava, signora," rejoined the cousin in an undertone, offering her his arm to leave the salon; "he who loves you is a fool, and he who displeases you an idiot." "Before your lordship and ladyship retire," I said, without the slightest symptom of emotion, "I will call your attention to the fact that this piano is in such a bad condition that I cannot possibly repair it properly in one day. I am obliged to go now; but if such is your wish, I will return to-morrow." "Certainly, signor," replied the cousin, with patronizing politeness, half turning toward me; "you will oblige me if you will return to-morrow." La Grimani, stopping him with a sudden and energetic motion of her head, forced him to turn wholly around, and as she stood in the doorway, leaning on his arm and eyeing me with an air of defiance, she said, as she saw me close the piano and take my hat: "Will the signor come again to-morrow?" "Most certainly I shall not fail to do so," I replied, bowing to the ground.