Only when we had settled ourselves, in uneasy chairs, opposite each other,
and he had composed me, what he termed 'a grog': himself preferring the
more innocent mixture known as _eau sucree_, did he allude to _Fidelio_.
I praised heartily the discipline of the orchestra, the prima donna,
whom report made his country-woman, with her strong, sweet voice and her
extraordinary beauty, the magnificence of the music, the fine impression of
the whole.
M. Cristich, his glass in hand, nodded approval. He looked intently into
the fire, which cast mocking shadows over his quaint, incongruous figure,
his antiquated dress coat, which seemed to skimp him, his frost-bitten
countenance, his cropped grey hair. 'Yes,' he said, 'Yes! So it pleased
you, and you thought her beautiful? I am glad.'
He turned round to me abruptly, and laid a thin hand impressively on my
knee.
'You know I invented her, the Romanoff, discovered her, taught her all
she learnt. Yes, Monsieur, I was proud to-night, very proud, to be there,
playing for her, though she did not know. Ah! the beautiful creature!...
and how badly I played! execrably! You could not notice that, Monsieur,
but they did, my confreres, and could not understand.
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