sword at her side?'

"'She! what she?' rejoined the old nobleman whom Sarrasine addressed.

"'La Zambinella.'

"'La Zambinella!' echoed the Roman prince. 'Are you jesting? Whence
have you come? Did a woman ever appear in a Roman theatre? And do you
not know what sort of creatures play female parts within the domains
of the Pope? It was I, monsieur, who endowed Zambinella with his
voice. I paid all the knave's expenses, even his teacher in singing.
And he has so little gratitude for the service I have done him that he
has never been willing to step inside my house. And yet, if he makes
his fortune, he will owe it all to me.'

"Prince Chigi might have talked on forever, Sarrasine did not listen
to him. A ghastly truth had found its way into his mind. He was
stricken as if by a thunderbolt. He stood like a statue, his eyes
fastened on the singer. His flaming glance exerted a sort of magnetic
influence on Zambinella, for he turned his eyes at last in Sarrasine's
direction, and his divine voice faltered. He trembled! An involuntary
murmur escaped the audience, which he held fast as if fastened to his
lips; and that completely disconcerted him; he stopped in the middle
of the aria he was singing and sat down. Cardinal Cicognara, who had
watched from the corner of his eye the direction of his _protege's_
glance, saw the Frenchman; he leaned toward one of his ecclesiastical
aides-de-camp, and apparently asked the sculptor's name. When he had
obtained the reply he desired he scrutinized the artist with great
attention and gave orders to an _abbe_, who instantly disappeared.
Meanwhile Zambinella, having recovered his self-possession, resumed