Her mother Madame Emelie Urso was a young and very handsome woman, and a fine singer. She also helped her husband in his music lessons. She was born in Lisbon in Portugal, but as she had come to France when quite young, she had forgotten her mother tongue and now spoke French and Italian. This last may have been owing to the fact that her husband was from Palermo, Sicily. With Camilla’s parents lived her mother’s sister, Caroline, whom we shall know as aunt Caroline. This made the Urso household. Both of Camilla’s parents were young and she was their oldest child and only daughter. There was at this time a baby brother and later there were three more brothers. The first four years of the little one’s life were passed in an uneventful manner, very much in the fashion of other children everywhere. When she was four years old she began to go to the theatre with her father. Every night she put her small hand in his and trotted off to the Place Graslin to sit with him in the orchestra among the violins and close beside her father’s flute. He was a noted player in those days and the little one shared his seat, with the music book spread before her, and the stage in full view. It was quite a fine theatre and many notable things took place there. Operas, both new and old, were given, and often between the acts, a piano was brought out and such famous players as traveled in that part of France appeared and showed what they could do. Celebrated violinists and great singers also appeared at times. So it happened that the little Camilla almost lived in the midst of an orchestra and before she was five years old had heard many of the best players and singers of the times. The orchestra became almost a second home to her. The lights, the crowds of people, the music were every day matters and she grew up to be quite indifferent to the public character of such a life. Most children would have soon learned to go to sleep in the midst of it all. Camilla never thought of such a thing. While the music went on she was content. If she could only nestle down in a corner where she could hear those violins and her father’s flute she was perfectly happy in a demure and sober fashion that was infinitely amusing in such a very small girl. On Sundays and on fête days when the church was open she went with her father to the church of the Holy Cross. The church was an old one and to reach the organ loft high up over the great portal they had to climb a steep and winding stair in the great tower. The stairs were worn deep with footsteps so that it was hard climbing for the little one. Still, she always went with her father and mother. Did he not play the tall organ with its great white pipes, and did her mother not sing? She had a good seat where she could look up at the black arches springing so high overhead, or down on the people who seemed so small in the church far below.