But it was in London, where the great singer was “starring” during the Covent Garden Season of 19—, that the haughty and intolerant Carlo was to meet his match.
At rehearsal one morning, Rebelli, the famous basso, said to Gladiali, with a twinkle: “A new ‘star’ has dawned on the operatic horizon. La Betisi, the pretty little soprano with the fiend’s temper and the seraph’s voice, has created a furore at Rome and Milan. She will ‘star’ over here in her successful rôles. I have it from the impresario himself.”
“_Ebbene!_” Carlo shrugged his shoulders and smiled with superb patronage. “We shall be very glad to welcome the little one.... Artists should know how to value genius in others.”
“How well you always express things!” said Rebelli, grinning. “She is to sing Isolina in ‘Belverde’ on the 10th. The Spanish _prima donna_ has broken her contract. As Galantuomo, you will have an excellent opportunity of judging of her talents,” he added, as he turned away, “and scowling at the lady.”
But Carlo did not scowl at first. He was all engaging courtesy and cordial welcome at the first rehearsal, when he was presented ceremoniously to a tiny little lady with willful dark eyes, pouting scarlet lips, and hair as golden as her own Neapolitan sunshine. She vaguely reminded the tenor of somebody he had seen before.
“The Maestro is coming from Naples to conduct,” he heard Rebelli say. “He vowed that La Betisi should make her _début_ under no _bâton_ save his own. Her rôle will be Isolina in his ‘Belverde,’ in which, you know, she created such a sensation at La Scala.”
“And you, Signor, are to sing the great part of Galantuomo in the ‘Belverde’?” said the Betisi demurely to Gladiali. “This time I will not say, ‘_I had rather sing with my cat!_’”
Carlo started. Yes; there was no mistaking the willful mouth and the flashing defiant eyes. The little girl who had sung so divinely in the Maestro’s dusty room ten years ago was the new operatic “star.” But he was not jealous of the Betisi as yet. He said the most exquisite things—as only an Italian can say them—and bowed over her hand.
“The Signorina has fulfilled the glorious promise of her childhood and the prophecy of the Maestro,” he said. “She who once sang like a cherub now sings like an angel. I am dying to hear you!” he added.