been condemned in any other singer. For example, while _Fidalma_ is in
the midst of the most ludicrous drollery of the part, Malibran suddenly
took up one word and gave an extended series of the most brilliant and
difficult roulades of her own improvisation, through the whole range
of her voice. Her hearers were transported at this musical feat, but it
entirely interrupted the continuity of the humor.

On Mme. Malibran's return to Paris, she found her father, who had
unexpectedly returned from his Mexican tour, thoroughly bankrupted in
purse, and more embittered than ever by his train of misfortunes. He
announced his intention of giving some representations at the Theatre
Italien. This resolution caused much vexation to his daughter, but she
did not oppose it. Garcia had lost a part of his voice; his tenor had
become a barytone, and he could no longer reach the notes which had in
former times been written for him. She knew how much her father's voice
had become injured, and knowing equally well his intrepid courage,
feared, not without reason, that he would tarnish his brilliant
reputation. Garcia displayed even more than ever the great artist. A
hoarseness seized him at the moment of appearing on the stage. "This
is nothing," said he: "I shall do very well"; and, by sheer strength of
talent and of will, he arranged the music of his part (_Almaviva_) to
suit the condition of his voice, changing the passages, transposing them
an octave lower, and taking up notes adroitly where he found his voice
available; and all this instantly, with an admirable confidence.

Malibran's second season in Paris confirmed the estimate which had been
placed on her genius, but the incessant labors of her professional life
and the ardor with which she pursued the social enjoyments of life were
commencing to undermine her health. She never hesitated to sacrifice
herself and her time for the benefit of her friends, in spite of her own