them were the daughters of needy artists, whose wandering existence did
not permit them a long stay in Venice. Of such parentage was little
Consuelo, born in Spain, and arriving in Italy by the strange routes of
Bohemians. Not that Gonsuelo was really a gipsy. She was of good Spanish
blood, and had a calmness of mind and manner quite foreign to the
wandering races. A rare and happy temperament was hers, and, in spite of
poverty and orphanhood--for her mother, who brought her to Venice, was
dead--Consuelo worked on with Porpora, finding the labour an enjoyment,
and overcoming the difficulties of her art as if by some invisible
instinct.

When Consuelo was eighteen Count Zustiniani, having heard her sing in
Porpora's choir, decided she must come out as a prima donna in his
theatre. For the fame and success of this theatre Zustiniani cared more
than for anything else in the world--not that he was eager for money,
but because he was an enthusiast for music--a man of taste, an amateur,
whose great business in life was to gratify his taste. He liked to be
talked about and to have his theatre and his magnificence talked about.

The success of Consuelo was assured when she appeared for the first time
in Gluck's "Ipermnestra." The debutante was at once self-possessed and
serious, receiving the applause of the audience without fear or
humility. For her art itself, and not the results of art, were the main
thing, and her inward satisfaction in her performance did not depend on
the amount of approbation manifested by the public.

But Zustiniani, gratified as he was by the triumph of his new prima
donna, was not content with Consuelo's success on the stage; he also
wanted her for himself. Consuelo gravely refused the jewels and
ornaments he offered her, and the count was strangely annoyed. He was