In the summer of 1873 "Don Rodrigue" was really finished, and one evening Bizet called his friends to come and listen. Around the piano were Edouard Blau, Louis Gallet, and Jean Faure. Bizet had his score before him--to common gaze a skeleton thing enough, for of "accompaniment" there was but little. But to its creator it was well alive, and he sang--in the poorest possible voice, it is true--the whole thing through from beginning to end. Chorus, soprano, tenor, bass, yea, even the choicer "bits" for orchestra--all came alike to him; all were infused with life from the spirit that created them. It was long past midnight when he ceased, and then they sat and talked till dawn. All were enthusiastic, and in the opinion of Faure (given three years later) this score was more than the equal of "Carmen." His word is all we have for it, but it carries with it something of conviction. He was no bad judge of a work. Anyway, no sooner had he heard it than he set about securing its speedy production at the Opéra. And he succeeded in so far that it was put down early on the list. But Fate had yet to be reckoned with. She was not thus to be baulked of her prey: she had dogged the footsteps of poor Bizet far too zealously for that; and on the 28th October (less than a week after he had put _finis_ to his work), she stepped in. On that day the Opéra was burned down. As for the score, it was laid aside, and of its ultimate lot we are in ignorance. Inquiry on the part of Gallet seems to have elicited nothing more definite than a courteous letter from M. Ludovic Halévy, to the effect that he was quite free to dispose of the book to another composer. "It was George's favourite," wrote his brother-in-law, "and he had great hopes for it; but it was not to be."