and critical indifference--a feeling, however, which quickly flamed
into all the unrestrained volcanic ardor of the Neapolitan temperament.
Thenceforward she sang at double prices, "notwithstanding the
subscribers' privileges were on most of these occasions suspended, and
although 'Otello,' 'La Gazza Ladra,' and operas of that description were
the only ones offered to a public long since tired even of the beauties
of Rossini, and proverbial for their love of novelty."

Her great triumph, however, was on the night when she took her leave,
in the character of _Ninetta_. "Nothing can be imagined finer than the
spectacle afforded by the immense Theatre of San Carlo, crowded to the
very ceiling, and ringing with acclamations," says a correspondent of
one of the English papers at the time. "Six times after the fall of
the curtain Mme. Mali-bran was called forward to receive the reiterated
plaudits and adieux of the assembled multitude, and indicate by graceful
and expressive gestures the degree to which she was overpowered by
fatigue and emotion. The scene did not end within the walls of the
theatre; for a crowd of the most enthusiastic rushed from all parts
of the house to the stage-door, and, as soon as her sedan came out,
escorted it with loud acclamations to the Palazzo Barbaja, and renewed
their salutations as the charming vocalist ascended the steps."

Mme. Malibran had now learned to dearly love Italy and its impulsive,
warm-hearted people, so congenial to her own nature. She sang in
different Italian cities, receiving everywhere the most enthusiastic
receptions. In Bologna they placed a bust of their adored songstress
in the peristyle of the theatre. Each city vied with its neighbor in
lavishing princely gifts on her. She had not long been in London, where
she returned to meet her spring engagement at the King's Theatre in
1833, when she concluded a contract with the Duke Visconti of Milan for