my child," he said sadly. "If you wish to succeed, you would do well to
follow the master to whom they owe their skill and their fortune."

But when Consuelo told him of the proposal made by Count Albert, and of
Count Christian's desire for her marriage with his son, the tyrannical
old musician at once put his foot down.

"You must not think of the young count!" he said fiercely. "I positively
forbid you! Such a union is not suitable. Count Christian would never
permit you to become an artist again. I know the unconquerable pride of
these nobles, and you cannot hesitate for an instant between the career
of nobility and that of art."

So resolute was Porpora that Consuelo should not be tempted from the
life he had trained her for, that he did not hesitate to destroy,
unread, her letters to the Rudolstadts, and letters from Count Christian
and Albert. He even wrote to Christian himself, declaring that Consuelo
desired nothing but the career of a public singer.

But when, after many disappointments and rebuffs, Consuelo at last was
appointed to take the prima donna's place for six days at the imperial
opera house, she was frightened at the prospect of the toils and
struggles before her feverish arena of the theatre seemed to her a place
of terror and the Castle of the Giants a lost paradise, an abode of
peace and virtue.

Consuelo's triumph at the opera had been indisputable. Her voice was
sweeter and richer than when she sang in Venice, and a perfect storm of
flowers fell upon the stage at the end of the performance. Amid these
perfumed gifts Consuelo saw a green branch fall at her feet, and when