The theatre was empty, and all the greater was the number of visitors who towards evening came to enquire after the health of the singer. Beate had trouble to restrain the pressure which, under pretexts of every description, became dangerous for her friend's quiet, nor could she always succeed, inventive as she was in evasions of every kind; the regular visitors would not let themselves be turned away, and even a few others who were particularly pushing, obtained admittance by force. Amongst the latter class was the student Salomon, who in the interim had relinquished his studies at the gymnasium, and was proudly conscious of his new position in life, which was still more transfigured for him by the brilliancy of the jubilee. The cunning Italian, with her sparkling eyes, her high, arched eyebrows, the agreeable sly smile upon her lips, one of those beauties that would have been fitted for a queen of hearts for the tricks at cards of a Bosco, felt an unconquerable repugnance to the wearisome youth. "Signora Beate," said he in reply to all her representations, "your friend may be indisposed and exclude herself from the general crowd, but you really do not act in your own interests when you insult the student class; I look upon myself as its representative; I am to give my friends information as to the admired actress' state of health; what, then, would they say if I found these doors closed? Consider that her success is our work; we are the genuine, incorruptible enthusiasts--enthusiasm of the _claque_ always betrays its hired origin--the fate of an evening at the theatre rests in our pure hands." Beate was not impervious to such explanations, and opened the portals of the sanctuary to the repulsive young man. Somewhat pale, Signora Giulia lay upon the sofa, her hair unbound, a book in her hand, a red-hued sheeny silk encircled the slender form; the modulated light of a hanging lamp which still struggled with the light of day, imparted a slightly green tint to her noble features. Spectre-like stood out the statues of Dante and Tasso, of Rossini and Bellini from the dark red velvet hangings; the Signora loved the art of sculpture and beautiful forms. There, too, the head of Juno Ludovisti was displayed, a successful copy; here the Venus out of the Florentine Academy, and that group upon the buffet represented the bull of the derricks, the cruel piece of carving out of the Museo Borbonico. The Signora greeted the student with a slight movement of her head as he entered; he enquired after her health and the subject of her reading-- "Tasso!" exclaimed he then, "Jerusalem delivered? and the very canto which treats of Armida and Rinaldo? I must confess that Tasso is not my favourite, he takes things so terribly seriously, and describes circumstances which are really frivolous, with such solemn feeling; he is for ever squinting at the capitoline laurels."