Chapter II: Part IV: The Twilight of the Gods (1)

(_Die Götterdämmerung_) 472
Parsifal 480

WALLACE--
Maritana 495
Lurline 508

WALTERSHAUSEN--
Colonel Chabert. (_Oberst Chabert_) 513

WOLF-FERRARI--
The Jewels of the Madonna.
(_I Gioielli della Madonna_) 524

SHORT BIOGRAPHIES OF THE COMPOSERS

PAGE

Auber 536

Balfe 536

Beethoven 537

Bellini 538

Benedict 538

Bizet 539

Donizetti 540

Flotow 541

Gounod 541

Halèvy 542

Humperdinck 542

Leoncavallo 543

Mascagni 544

Meyerbeer 544

Mozart 545

Nicolai 546

Offenbach 546

Puccini 548

Rossini 548

Strauss 549

Thomas 551

Tschaikovsky 551

Verdi 552

Wagner 553

Wallace 554

Waltershausen 555

Wolf-Ferrari 555

ALPHABETICAL LIST OF THE OPERAS 557

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

ISOLDA SNATCHED THE CUP FROM HIS TREMBLING
HAND AND DRANK _Frontispiece_

AUBER _To face page_ 1

BALFE " 14

BEETHOVEN " 28

BELLINI " 38

DONIZETTI " 73

GOUNOD " 105

HALÈVY " 135

MASCAGNI " 165

MEYERBEER " 171

MOZART " 206

OFFENBACH " 238

PUCCINI " 247

ROSSINI " 282

TSCHAIKOVSKY " 318

VERDI " 328

WAGNER " 397

STORIES FROM THE OPERAS

FRA DIAVOLO

One bright Easter Eve, early in the nineteenth century, a lively group of carbineers were gathered together in the inn of Terracina near Naples, drinking success to the enterprise they were engaged upon; for they were just about to attack a horde of brigands supposed to be in that neighbourhood, and were expecting to meet with many exciting adventures.

The captain of the outlaw band, Fra Diavolo, was the most celebrated bandit in Italy, and fully justified his sinister name, for his daring raids and impudent roguery had made him a terror to the country-side, and the mere mention of his name caused peaceful travellers to tremble in their shoes.

All previous attempts to capture the cunning outlaw had proved ineffectual; so when at last a troop of carbineers was sent out from Naples to lie in wait for the whole band, joy was felt in every village round about, and the peasants hoped to be freed from their dreaded enemy at last.

The soldiers had been awaiting news at the inn of Terracina, but on learning that Fra Diavolo and his rogues had been seen in the neighbourhood, they at once received orders to start off in pursuit. In merry haste, they drank the stirrup-cups poured out for them by old Matteo, the inn-keeper, and his pretty daughter, Zerlina; for a price had been set upon the head of Fra Diavolo, and they were eager to win the reward.

But the captain of this gay troop, a handsome young brigadier named Lorenzo, sat alone at a side table, full of gloom; and when the inn-keeper presently invited all the company to attend the wedding of his daughter with a neighbouring farmer on the morrow, the look of sadness on his face deepened still more.

For Lorenzo, on arriving at the inn, had quickly fallen in love with the pretty Zerlina himself, and when he had declared his passion for her, the maiden had gladly responded with an answering love as deep and tender as his own. But Matteo, the inn-keeper, would not hear of his daughter wedding a poor brigadier who had naught but his wretched pay to live upon, and to settle the matter he hastily arranged a marriage for her with Francesco, a well-to-do young farmer who came forward as a suitor just at this time. Negotiations were quickly made, and the ceremony fixed to take place on Easter Morn; and now, on the evening before, Zerlina, compelled to obey her parent's will, was bidden to say farewell to her portionless lover.

Whilst the two were whispering together in a sad undertone, a loud noise of excited voices was suddenly heard without, and next moment a lady and gentleman rushed wildly into the inn, both dishevelled, and showing signs of great alarm. They declared in agitated tones that they had just been set upon by a band of fierce brigands, who had robbed them of all their jewels and available property, and they added that it was only by leaving the robbers in undisputed possession of their travelling carriage that they had been able to escape with their lives.

Whilst Zerlina ran to attend to the exhausted lady, the gentleman, who was extremely fussy in manner, introduced himself as Lord Allcash, an English peer of great wealth touring through Italy with his newly-wedded wife, explaining that it was scarcely a mile away that their postillion had been stopped by the bandits.

On hearing this, Lorenzo exclaimed that it must have been the very band of outlaws he had been sent to capture--that of the famous Fra Diavolo--and calling his men together, he bade them march forth to the hillside at once. Full of joy, the carbineers sprang to their feet and hurried from the inn, eager for their expected prey; and with a last sad farewell to the now weeping Zerlina, Lorenzo quickly followed.

Lord Allcash immediately sat down to write out a notice, offering a reward for the recovery of his stolen property; and his wife, having noticed the tender parting between Zerlina and her lover, drew the girl aside and asked the cause of her trouble. Having learnt that it was only a matter of dowry that kept these two loving hearts apart, the lady, being of a sentimental disposition, persuaded her husband to make the reward a thousand ducats, hoping that the prize would be gained by the handsome Lorenzo, who would thus become an eligible suitor for the inn-keeper's daughter.

The notice was then fastened in a prominent place; and Lord and Lady Allcash were just about to retire to the private apartments that had been hastily prepared for them, when a splendid carriage suddenly drew up at the inn door. A handsome man, of gay _débonnaire_ appearance, stepped lightly to the ground, and bowed gracefully to the English tourists; and Lady Allcash, to her delight, recognised a charming fellow-traveller who had followed in their wake for several days past, and with whom she had more than once indulged in a pleasant flirtation.

But her husband uttered an angry exclamation, for, being somewhat dull and stupid himself, he was already jealous of his coquettish wife's brilliant admirer; and seizing her by the hand, he led her into an inner chamber, very much against her will.

The gay newcomer, who gave his name as the Marquis of San Carlo, entered the inn and ordered a repast, announcing that he meant to remain the night; and old Matteo bustled his servants about in high good-humour, blessing the good fortune that had brought two great lords to his hostelry on the same day.

He informed the Marquis, with many humble apologies, that he himself would be absent from the inn until morning, since he intended to spend the night with his future son-in-law, Francesco, who was to be married to his daughter on the morrow; but he assured him that every possible attention would be accorded to him during his absence.

So far from expressing annoyance at this announcement, the Marquis showed signs of pleasure, and as he sat down to the supper that had been quickly spread before him, he asked the landlord for the news of the neighbourhood. Matteo informed him that the talk of the country-side at that time was all of the daring bandit, Fra Diavolo, whose lawless band had only a few hours ago set upon and robbed the rich English lord and lady whom he had seen on entering the inn; and seeing that the Marquis was inclined to scoff at the notion of brigands, he bade his daughter sing to their guest a ballad well known to the peasants round about, in which the wild deeds of the famous robber were set forth in glowing colours.

Just as the song came to an end, two rough, swarthy men, wrapped in dark, ragged cloaks, entered the inn, and asked for shelter for the night; and when Matteo, suspicious of their rascally looks, declared that he did not harbour vagabonds, the Marquis good-naturedly begged him to grant their request, saying that he would gladly pay for their board and lodging. Matteo, though somewhat surprised at the great lord's generous offer, made no more objection, but ordered one of the servants to provide the tramps with food, and afterwards to lodge them in the barn; and then, bidding his noble guest farewell for the night, he set off to the farm of Francesco, calling to Zerlina to accompany him part of the way.

No sooner had the inn-keeper and his daughter departed, than the two vagabonds, casting hasty glances around, approached the Marquis and began to talk familiarly with him; for, though old Matteo little imagined it, the dashing guest he had served so obsequiously was in reality none other than the famous Fra Diavolo himself, now engaged on one of his most desperate enterprises! Having heard that a rich English lord and his lady were travelling through Italy, the daring brigand had determined to relieve them of all their available belongings, and to this end, being of gentlemanly aspect and manners, he had provided himself with fashionable attire, and made their acquaintance under the name of the Marquis of San Carlo. The coquettish Lady Allcash had quickly fallen under the fascinating spell of the brilliant Marquis, who, regardless of the fussy husband's black looks, had flirted desperately with her from the beginning; and, following in their wake from hotel to hotel, he had discovered under the pretence of friendly interest, the exact amount of all the valuables the wealthy pair had brought with them from England.

Having learnt that Lord Allcash intended to bank the sum of twenty thousand gold pieces at Leghorn, the disguised brigand had given orders to his band to waylay the travellers on their journey thither, and to possess themselves, not only of the gold, but also of the lady's handsome jewels; and he had also bidden two of the gang to follow him to the inn of Terracina, to give him an account of their raid.

These two rogues, whose names were Beppo and Giacomo, now told their daring leader that they had stopped the English travellers at the spot agreed upon; but though they had easily secured the diamonds and other jewels, they declared they had been unable to find the gold. On hearing this, Fra Diavolo was disappointed and perplexed, but declaring that he would quickly discover the whereabouts of the money, he bade the bandits retire to the barn to await his further orders.

As the two rascals departed, Lady Allcash entered the parlour, announcing carelessly that her husband was resting, and, being somewhat dull, she had come to indulge in a little conversation with the charming Marquis; and the disguised bandit, determined to make the most of this fortunate circumstance, plunged at once into another amiable flirtation with the frivolous lady. They were, however, quickly interrupted by the angry husband, who had no intention of being supplanted by a mere stranger; but the pretended Marquis, with careless ease, refused to quarrel, and cleverly inveigled the duped one into friendly conversation.

With great cunning he expressed sympathy with Lord Allcash in the loss of his valuables, enquiring casually if he had managed to save the large sum of gold he had been conveying to Leghorn; and with conceited pride, the Englishman replied that his own wits had served him in this matter. Having heard that bandits were in the neighbourhood, he had changed all the gold into bank-bills, which he had caused to be sewn up in the coat he was wearing, and also in the large sleeves of his lady's gown, and by this simple ruse he had managed to cheat the robbers.

Whilst they were talking together, and Fra Diavolo was inwardly rejoicing at the information he had gleaned, approaching footsteps were heard outside, and next moment, Lorenzo and his carbineers hurried into the inn, exclaiming that they had gained a victory. Having cut off the brigands' retreat, they had caught the whole band in an ambush, and, attacking them unawares, had quickly killed twenty of their number, after which the remainder had fled away in a panic.

Zerlina, who had also returned, quickly hastened to the side of her lover, rejoicing to see him again so soon; but Lorenzo declared that they must set off again immediately, for they had not yet captured the leader of the band, and could not rest until that deed was accomplished. He had, however, good news for Lord Allcash, whose lost valuables he had himself recovered from one of the bandits; and to the great delight of the travellers, he placed their jewels before them once more.

Lady Allcash now announced that Lorenzo was entitled to the reward offered for the recovery of the jewels, and demanding her husband's pocket-book, which he had already replenished from his hidden store of bank-bills, she took therefrom a note for a thousand ducats, and handed it to the young brigadier. Overjoyed at the good fortune that had so suddenly made him even richer than his rival Francesco, Lorenzo clasped Zerlina in his arms with delight, knowing now that there was nothing to keep them apart; and declaring that he should return on the morrow to wed her, in spite of the farmer, he hurried off with his men to search for the brigand chief.

All this time the disguised Fra Diavolo had been gnashing his teeth with rage, inwardly furious at the defeat of his band, and vowing vengeance for the death of his brave rogues, yet outwardly compelled to preserve the unconcerned demeanour of the gay Marquis; but as soon as an opportunity occurred, he slipped from the inn and made his way to the barn where Beppo and Giacomo had been lodged for the night.

He quickly arranged a scheme for again robbing the English travellers of their jewels, and also of the bank-bills hidden in their clothing; and having bidden the bandits to join him a short time later, he returned to the inn parlour to gather further information for the perfecting of his plans.

It was now getting late into the night, and at last Zerlina led Lord and Lady Allcash to their sleeping-chamber, which lay beyond her own; and in answer to the lady's request, she remained a little while to assist her in disrobing.

Whilst the maiden was thus absent, her own chamber was entered by the supposed Marquis, who had discovered that this was the only means by which the English lord's apartment could be reached; and creeping on tip-toe to the window, he opened it to admit Beppo and Giacomo, who were now waiting outside. Informing them in a whisper that they would have to wait until the girl had also retired to rest before they could accomplish their purpose, the bandit captain led them towards a large lumber-cupboard, with glass doors, at one end of the room; and here the three concealed themselves just as Zerlina returned.

Having already ascertained that all in the house had retired to rest, Zerlina at once prepared for bed; and as she undressed, she sang softly to herself, for joy was in her heart. She knew that her father would no longer refuse her in marriage to her beloved Lorenzo, since the brigadier had now a fortune even larger than Francesco's, and she felt that the young farmer could soon be persuaded to resign a bride who would never have loved him.

Catching sight of her pretty figure in the mirror on her dressing-table, she was suddenly struck with her own good looks, and with a thrill of innocent pleasure she uttered aloud a few words of admiration for the charming reflection before her, to the great amusement of the hidden bandits, who kept indulging in sly peeps through the glass doors of the cupboard, and could hear every word uttered in the room beyond. Several times they nearly betrayed their presence; but Zerlina was too much occupied with her own pleasant thoughts to think of any lurking danger. She was soon ready for rest; and having uttered a prayer for protection during the night, she put out the light and retired to bed.

Having waited until the maiden's regular breathing assured them that she was asleep, Fra Diavolo and his two rascals crept forth from their hiding-place and made their way towards the door of Lord Allcash's apartment; but on passing the bed, Beppo suggested in a whisper that they ran a great risk in leaving Zerlina free to rouse the household, should she be awakened by any noise they might make. Fra Diavolo replied that if he had any such fear, he had better silence the maiden once and for all; and seizing his dagger, Beppo crept to the bedside.

But just as he raised his arm to strike, Zerlina murmured softly in her sleep, repeating the sweet childish words of her simple prayer, and the brigand, conscience-stricken, let his arm fall limply to his side again.

At that moment a loud knocking was heard outside at the inn door, and the voice of Lorenzo shouted eagerly for admission; and finding that their enterprise must now be delayed a little longer, Fra Diavolo and his companions quickly withdrew to the cupboard once more, just as Zerlina, awakened by the noise, sprang out of bed.

Hastily dressing herself, the girl ran to open the window, and discovering to her joy that Lorenzo and his carbineers were waiting below, she threw a key down to her lover, bidding him let the men into the kitchen. She then finished dressing, and was just about to go below, when Lorenzo, impatient to greet her, entered the room; and almost at the same time Lord Allcash issued forth in hasty attire from the chamber beyond, indignantly demanding the cause of the disturbance.

Lorenzo explained that he and his men had hopes of soon securing Fra Diavolo, for after pursuing him in a wrong direction on the hillsides for some time, they had casually learnt from a peasant that their quarry had been seen on the Terracina road. They had consequently retraced their steps, but deeming it necessary for his men to have a few hours' rest, having been long on the march, he had called in at Matteo's hostelry for that purpose. Zerlina quickly ran off to provide the carbineers with food, but Lord Allcash detained the brigadier a few minutes longer to listen to a pompous tirade against a country where peaceful travellers were set upon by brigands in the day-time, and roused thus rudely from their slumbers at night. Suddenly they were startled by a loud noise within the cupboard, for Beppo, by an awkward movement, had accidentally overturned some heavy object he had not noticed in the darkness. Fra Diavolo, however, was instantly ready with a subtle scheme to save the situation, and as Lorenzo and Lord Allcash crossed to the cupboard to discover the cause of the noise, he stepped forth, coolly smiling and bowing with the easy grace of the brilliant Marquis.

In answer to the indignant questions poured upon him, he blandly declared that he had concealed himself in the cupboard to keep a tender assignation; and by the aid of his clever wit, he led the Englishman to suppose that his intended meeting was to have been with Lady Allcash, whilst Lorenzo imagined that Zerlina was the expected fair one.

The young brigadier, filled with grief at this seeming proof of Zerlina's defection, instantly challenged the man he supposed to be her lover to a mortal duel, a challenge which was gaily accepted by the pretended Marquis, who arranged to meet him at seven o'clock next morning in a rocky pass near by.

Lady Allcash, attracted by the angry voices, now appeared on the scene, only to be met by indignant upbraidings from her outraged husband; and when Zerlina presently returned to announce that food was ready below, Lorenzo turned coldly aside and refused even to speak to her.

All was now confusion and dismay; and in the midst of the general disturbance, Fra Diavolo and his companions managed to escape unobserved from the inn.

Bidding Beppo and Giacomo return to the barn, and there await his further instructions, which he would convey to them next morning in a note concealed in a hollow tree near the inn, the bandit captain hastened to his familiar haunts on the mountain-side, and there, with the remnant of his scattered band, he arranged a third plot for the capture of the English travellers' wealth. It was decided that when Lorenzo came to keep his appointment for the duel in the rocky pass, he should be instantly surrounded and killed by a few ambushed rascals, and that when all the party from the inn had departed to the village church for Zerlina's wedding, and the carbineers had started on their march, the captain and remainder of the band should make a quiet raid on the hostelry and possess themselves of the treasure they had so long desired. Having completed his plans, Fra Diavolo wrote them down on a note for Beppo and Giacomo, bidding them to give him notice directly the inn was deserted by ringing the bell of a little hermitage on the hillside; and this message he slipped into the hollow tree agreed upon.

Just before seven o'clock next morning Matteo arrived at the inn with the young farmer, Francesco, and the rest of the wedding party, and poor Zerlina, who had vainly tried to learn the cause of Lorenzo's sudden coldness to her, was filled with despair. Seeing that the young brigadier was just about to depart with his carbineers in search of the brigand chief, and was making no attempt to prevent her marriage with Francesco, she ran to him once again, imploring him to say in what way she had offended him; and Lorenzo, still believing her to be false, at last declared in tones of suppressed anger that she had betrayed him by concealing another lover in her chamber the night before. He then hastened away to place himself at the head of the troop, remembering his appointment with the Marquis at seven o'clock; and his distracted sweetheart was left more mystified than ever.

At that moment, however, her attention was attracted by the two vagabonds, Beppo and Giacomo, who were drinking together at a little side-table close beside her; for having secured the captain's note, they were now awaiting the opportunity to carry out his instructions. Seeing Zerlina approach, Beppo nudged his companion, reminding him that this was the same pretty maid they had watched at her toilet the previous evening, and carried away by the amusing recollection, he repeated in a loud whisper the words of admiration she had uttered when standing before the mirror.

Every word of this careless whisper was heard by Zerlina, who was filled with amazement, and feeling sure that some mysterious plot was on foot, she called aloud to the carbineers to seize the two tramps, declaring they had just repeated certain words she remembered to have uttered when she believed herself alone in her chamber the night before.

Instantly the two rogues were seized, in spite of their struggles to escape, and as the carbineers searched them for proof of their guilt, they found the note containing the whole of Fra Diavolo's cunning plot.

Lorenzo, determined that the famous robber should not escape his hands this time, quickly decided to catch him in his own trap; and bidding the wedding guests retire within the inn, he ordered the carbineers to conceal themselves on the hillside down which Fra Diavolo intended to come. He next dispatched Beppo to toll the hermitage bell, with two soldiers hidden close by, covering him with their carbines; and then, concealing himself behind some bushes with Zerlina and Lord and Lady Allcash, he waited to see the result of his ruse.

The wretched Beppo, not daring to disobey the command given him, began to toll the hermitage bell, and almost immediately afterwards Fra Diavolo appeared on the hilltop. Although now attired in the gorgeous garb of a brigand chief, the hidden watchers instantly recognised him as the gay Marquis who had successfully deceived them all, and, amazed at the discovery, Lorenzo's contrite eyes sought Zerlina's in a silent appeal for forgiveness, whilst Lord and Lady Allcash joined hands in token of renewed good-fellowship.

Seeing that Beppo still tolled the bell undisturbed, Fra Diavolo concluded that all was well, and gaily descended the hillside with confidence; but at a sign from Lorenzo, the carbineers sprang suddenly from their ambush, and seized him ere he had time to realise his danger. In another moment his arms were tightly bound and shackled, and as he was led away between two files of carbineers, a loud cry of triumph arose from the spectators now assembled below, who all rejoiced together at the capture of the dreaded bandit.

A few hours later, Zerlina's wedding was celebrated in the little village church, and the happy bridegroom who joined hands with her that day was not Francesco the farmer, but Lorenzo, the proud vanquisher of the famous Fra Diavolo.

THE BOHEMIAN GIRL

One bright summer day, towards the end of the eighteenth century, high revels were being held in the little city of Presburg, on the Danube; for a merry troupe of Austrian soldiers had just returned from the wars, flushed with success, and elated by their victorious invasion of the fair, but unhappy land of Poland.

The gayest scene of all took place in the beautiful grounds before the castle of Count Arnheim, their leader, for here preparations were being made for a great hunt, and the retainers and peasants on the estate were merry-making in honour of their lord's return.

Count Arnheim, accompanied by a number of neighbouring nobles whom he had invited to join in the chase, presently came forth from the castle, and as soon as he appeared, a loud shout of welcome arose from the whole party of holiday-makers.

Amongst these brilliant newcomers was the Count's nephew, Florestein, a conceited, foppish young man, whose gorgeous appearance was only surpassed by his foolish conversation; and in and out amongst the guests tripped little Arline, the heiress of Arnheim--a lovely child, who was the joy of her widowed father's heart.

The Count gravely acknowledged the hearty welcome accorded to him with a sad smile, for since the death of his beautiful young wife a deep melancholy had settled upon him, and the only joy he now knew was his love for his only child, Arline, who alone could comfort him. He did not care to join in the chase, but having seen that his noble guests had all they needed for their sport, he tenderly caressed his beloved child once more, and returned to the castle.

The huntsmen now sounded their lively bugle calls, and when all were ready, the brilliant cavalcade moved off, climbing the hillsides, and disappearing behind the rocks and trees. The little Arline, after much coaxing, at length persuaded her attendant maid, Buda, to allow her to follow the hunters a short distance; and since all the retainers and peasants had also rushed off to watch the sport, the castle grounds were left quite deserted for a time.

Presently, a handsome young stranger, dressed in the garb of a Polish officer, ran into the gardens in a breathless and exhausted state, seeking a hiding-place; for a band of Austrian soldiers, whose vigilance the proscribed exile could no longer elude, were now close upon his track, and every moment he expected them to come in sight.

Poor Thaddeus of Poland! A scion of a noble family, he had bravely fought and bled for the freedom of his country, as a true patriot; but now, defeated and pursued, he wandered forth homeless, without friends or fortune, and his only hope to find some place of present shelter.

A statue of the Austrian emperor before the entrance to the castle warned the unhappy exile that he was on the very threshold of his enemies, and that this was no safe haven for him; and, full of despair, he was just about to make his escape, when a band of wild-looking gipsies suddenly swarmed into the grounds from the woodland glade, and quickly surrounded him.

The sight of these merry gipsies brought a sudden hope of safety to the wretched Thaddeus, and turning to their leader, a light-hearted, clever rogue rejoicing in the name of Devilshoof, he cried out eagerly: "Let me join your ranks! I am a homeless wanderer, without country, friends, or fortune, but I have youth, strength, and courage, which I will expend in your service if you will save me from my enemies, who are even now upon me!"

Devilshoof and his gipsy companions were so pleased with the boldness of the hapless young stranger that they were glad enough to let him join their ranks; and as his pursuers could already be seen approaching, they quickly stripped off his soldier's garb and dressed him in gay gipsy clothes. Whilst this quick change was being made, a roll of parchment with a seal attached fell to the ground, and Thaddeus, as he hastily snatched it up and hid it within his bosom, explained that it was his commission, from which he would never be parted, since it was the sole proof of his noble birth.

He had only just time to mingle with the other gipsies when the Austrian soldiers, who had pursued him so long, entered the grounds, and demanded news of the fugitive; but upon the wily Devilshoof carelessly announcing that a young Polish officer had passed up the hillside only a few minutes ago, they dashed off in that direction at once.

As they vanished out of sight, the triumphant Devilshoof seized the hand of Thaddeus in token of comradeship, swearing to befriend him all his life; and then he gaily led him off to watch the chase, followed by the rest of the gipsy band.

Meanwhile, the great hunt was going forward with much spirit, lively bugle calls sounding in every direction; but suddenly loud cries of alarm came from the woods, and a crowd of peasants rushed into the grounds, all talking at once, and seemingly full of distress. Upon the heels of this crowd came Thaddeus in his gipsy dress, and seeing that the people seemed distraught, he demanded what was wrong.

Learning from their excited cries that the little child, Arline--whom he had already seen and admired in the woods--had been set upon by an infuriated stag, he was filled with dismay, and snatching up a rifle that lay on a seat near by, he hurried off to her aid. He quickly reached the spot, and killed the maddened animal, and then he returned to the grounds with the rescued child and her terrified attendant.

The wild cries of the peasants quickly brought Count Arnheim upon the scene, and on learning of the danger his precious child had been in, he clasped her in his arms with great relief. Seeing, however, that her arm had been wounded by the stag's horns, he bade the nurse carry her within doors, and attend to her hurts; and then, turning to Thaddeus, he seized his hand, and poured forth words of gratitude upon him for saving the life of his beloved child, who was the one joy of his lonely heart.

On being next invited by the Count to partake of refreshment and join in the festivities, Thaddeus at first proudly refused, remembering that these were the enemies of his country; but the merry guests would not accept his refusal, and good-naturedly dragged him off to the refreshment tables that had been laid out near the castle steps. Here the company seated themselves, whilst a troupe of dancers went through a mazy figure before them; and presently the little Arline, with her wounded arm now bound up, appeared at an upper window with her nurse, to watch the revels.

When the wine-glasses had all been filled, the Count rose from his seat and invited his guests to drink the health of their Emperor; but, though everyone else rose to do honour to the pledge, Thaddeus remained seated, and did not touch his glass. The young fop, Florestein, soon noticed his attitude, and pointed it out to his uncle, and Count Arnheim immediately filled up another goblet and handed it to Thaddeus, challenging him to drink loyally to the health of the Emperor.

But the heart of Thaddeus was full of rage against the invader of his beloved Poland, and in answer to the Count's challenge, he seized the glass and dashed it to pieces at the foot of the Emperor's statue. Instantly there arose a chorus of indignation, and the guests leaped upon Thaddeus with drawn swords; and at the same moment, Devilshoof, the gipsy leader, who had been watching the scene for some time, sprang forward to protect his new comrade.

The enraged guests instantly attacked Thaddeus and Devilshoof, with intent to kill them both, but at a word from Count Arnheim, the huntsmen and retainers dragged the two gipsies apart, and marched them off in different directions. Thaddeus was led away towards the woods, where, however, he soon broke from his captors, and escaped to his gipsy friends; but Devilshoof was taken into the castle and locked in an upper room.

After this the guests settled down to their festivities once more, and the dancing and games continued with great merriment.

The waiting-maid, Buda, left her little charge for a short time, and went out into the grounds to assure the Count that his child was now recovering from her fright; and whilst she was away, the gipsy, Devilshoof, took his revenge for capture.

Having escaped from his prison chamber during the absence of the guards, and reached the castle roof, he gently lowered himself down to the open window of Arline's room, and stepping on to the sill, he entered, and shut the window behind him. He then snatched up the little child, and hurried from the room with her, and making his way along the deserted passages, escaped through a side door with his prize.

None of the revellers had noticed the gipsy's daring climb from the roof, and when Buda presently returned to Arline's chamber and found it empty, she was filled with amazement. Wildly she searched in every room, and then, uttering loud cries of alarm, she rushed outside, declaring that the child had been stolen. Quickly the nobles rushed into the castle, and finding that the captive gipsy had also vanished, they knew well enough that he had carried off the child in revenge.

When the Count heard the terrible news, he uttered a cry of despair, and at that moment, Devilshoof appeared on the hillside carrying Arline in his arms, and stifling her cries as he sprang from rock to rock. With a shout of rage, Count Arnheim and the nobles sprang after the spoiler, but Devilshoof ran to a deep gorge between two rocky cliffs, and having crossed over the tree-trunk that served as a bridge, he kicked it down into the gulf below, so that none might follow him further.

His baffled pursuers then took up their rifles, but the cunning gipsy held the little Arline in front of him, and they dared not fire. Count Arnheim, in a frenzy of despair, was about to fling himself into the gorge, but his guests seized his arms, and whilst they carried him back senseless to the castle, Devilshoof, still holding the child as a shield, made his escape, and vanished into the depths of the forest.

* * * * *

Twelve years had passed away, and the gipsy tribe, after many wanderings, were again encamped in the city of Presburg. On the open side of a quiet street the tent of the gipsy queen was pitched; and here, one moonlit summer night, Arline lay sleeping, whilst Thaddeus watched beside her.

All was quiet and peaceful, for it was growing late, and only one inn kept its lights burning; but presently a party of gipsies, wrapped in dark cloaks, entered the street, headed by the bold Devilshoof, who had brought them there to rob the late revellers as they left the inn. Quietly they crouched in the shadows and dark corners to await their prey; and in a short time their patience was rewarded, for a gorgeously-clad figure soon issued from the inn, and staggered down the street with uneven steps. This was Florestein, the foppish nephew of Count Arnheim, who, regarding himself as the heir of his wealthy uncle since the kidnapping of his little cousin Arline, squandered his own fortune recklessly, and spent all his time in feastings and revellings.

Seeing in this foolish roysterer an easy and profitable victim, Devilshoof accosted him at once, calling his companions about him at the same time; and in a few minutes they had stripped him of every valuable he had carried, for Florestein, being a coward as well as a fop, was too terrified even to cry out.

Having possessed himself of a rich jewelled medallion and chain, Devilshoof made his escape, leaving his companions to finish what he had begun; but whilst the exulting gipsies were eagerly dividing their spoils, another cloaked figure suddenly appeared in their midst. Full of surprise and dismay, they started back, for the cloaked figure was that of their own gipsy queen, and they could read anger in her mien.

With a haughty gesture she bade them instantly restore all they had stolen from their victim, and not daring to disobey her command, the gipsies sullenly handed back the rings, chains, and other jewels they had been so eager to secure.

"Is that all?" demanded the queen, and Florestein, in a voice trembling with fright, replied that he yet lacked a handsome gold medallion, set with diamonds, worth all the rest. The gipsies explained that Devilshoof had gone off with this jewel as his prize; and then the queen led Florestein away, saying she would protect him, to a place of safety, and beckoning to the gipsies to follow her.

When the street was quiet once more, Arline, who had been awakened by the noise, arose and came forth from the tent into the moonlight, followed by Thaddeus. These two had grown to be lovers during the years that had passed, and they only awaited the gipsy queen's pleasure to join their hands in marriage.

Arline had no knowledge of her noble birth, though she had always felt herself to be different from the careless gipsies with whom she lived, and to-night, as she stood in the moonlight, she told Thaddeus of a dream she had just awakened from, which seemed to bear a message for her. She had dreamt that she dwelt in marble halls, amidst great riches and splendour, bearing a high ancestral name; that countless suitors sought her hand; and yet, which charmed her most of all, that Thaddeus still loved her just the same.

When her story came to an end she begged her lover to tell her the secret of her birth, for she felt that he knew it, since he had already told her that a certain scar upon her arm had been caused by the charge of a wild stag, from which danger he had saved her years ago; but for answer Thaddeus only showered kisses upon her, for he knew full well that if he disclosed her true birth they must be parted.

Whilst they were thus folded in each other's arms, the gipsy queen--who also loved Thaddeus--suddenly returned, and, advancing towards Arline, angrily demanded how she thus dared to aspire to the love of one who was the chosen lover of her queen. But Arline was not afraid of her rival's anger; and standing aside, she said that Thaddeus should choose between them. Instantly Thaddeus folded her in his arms again, and then Arline, with a triumphant smile, turned towards the other gipsies who had now gathered round, and declared that it was their desire to be wed. Then Devilshoof, whose delight it was to make mischief and stir up jealousy, reminded the queen that it was her duty and right as a ruler of the tribe to join the hands of those of her subjects who desired to be united; and the queen, afraid of losing her authority should she refuse, came slowly forward, and haughtily placed the hand of Arline in that of Thaddeus, according to the gipsy custom of betrothal.

But she was full of inward disappointment and rage, and when Arline and Thaddeus presently wandered off in the moonlight, she turned upon Devilshoof, and passionately accused him of having brought this evil hour upon her, declaring she would only pardon him on condition that he yielded up to her the jewelled medallion he had stolen that night.

Devilshoof, though he feared naught else, dared not disobey the queen of his tribe, so he delivered up the medallion, but muttered vengeance as he strode away. The gipsy queen also thought of revenge; and as she hid the jewel in her dress, she laid a cunning plan for bringing trouble upon her rival by means of it.

Next day a great fair was held in Presburg, and all the gipsy tribe went to join in the revels. Arline and the other Bohemian maids took their tambourines, and sang and danced for the amusement of the holiday-makers; and many of the gay youths of the town sought to obtain favours from the pretty strangers.

Amongst these revellers was the fop, Florestein, decked in all his bravest attire, who was greatly struck with the beauty and grace of Arline; and seeing her standing alone one time, he swaggered up and made flattering remarks to her. Finding that his foolish speeches were not listened to, he next tried to snatch a kiss, but to his surprise and dismay, Arline turned sharply round upon him and boxed his ears!

As he turned away, angry and discomfited, the gipsy queen, who had been watching the scene, recognised him as the roysterer whom she had protected the night before, and running after Arline, she fastened the jewelled medallion round her neck, saying that it was a reward for her pretty conduct, but knowing full well that Florestein would soon see it, and accuse the girl of theft.

Having thus carried out the evil plan she had laid, the queen left the fair ground, and soon afterwards the rest of the tribe departed also. But just as Thaddeus and Arline were moving away, Florestein caught sight of his medallion hanging round the maiden's neck; and hurrying forward, he loudly accused her of having stolen it from him, rejoicing to thus bring trouble upon one who had repulsed his advances. Arline indignantly defended herself, but at the command of Florestein, she was quickly surrounded by the city guards, who seized and bore her off in triumph to the Hall of Justice.

Here Count Arnheim sat, waiting to do justice on those offenders who should be brought before him that day; for his high position had made him the Chief Judge of the district. The twelve years that had gone by had aged him very much, for all his efforts to trace his stolen daughter had been in vain; but never for a moment had he altogether given up hope, and never did he cease to think of the sweet little maid who had been the only comfort of his lonely heart.

He was thinking of her now as he sat in the Hall of Justice on the day of the fair; but presently his sad thoughts were rudely interrupted by the entrance of the city guards, with Arline in their midst, and Florestein bringing up the rear.

With swaggering, self-satisfied demeanour, Florestein approached his uncle, and in angry, excited tones, accused Arline of having stolen his diamond medallion; but Count Arnheim, greatly struck with the beauty and innocent looks of the young girl, who reminded him strangely of his own lost child, begged her to defend herself.

Then Arline explained in clear, sweet tones that the jewel had been but a short time ago bestowed upon her by the gipsy queen, who, she now saw, had intended to bring trouble upon her by this very gift; and she proudly declared that, rather than be accused of such baseness as common theft, she would take her own life. She drew a dagger as she spoke, but ere she had raised her arm, Count Arnheim, whose chords of memory had again been touched by the maiden's sweet voice, sprang forward and snatched the weapon from her hand.

His action was so sudden that Arline's loose sleeve slipped back from her elbow, disclosing the rough scar upon her white arm, and as the Count's gaze fell upon this wound mark, he turned suddenly pale, and in trembling accents demanded eagerly how she came by it. Full of surprise at his tone, Arline repeated the story of the maddened stag that Thaddeus had told to her, and Count Arnheim, knowing now beyond a doubt that this beautiful Bohemian maiden was indeed his long-lost child, clasped her in his arms with frantic joy, declaring to all that she was his beloved daughter.

And now Arline was quickly restored to the high position she had been born to; and as soon as the young girl had recovered from the strangeness of her new life, the proud and happy Count sent out invitations for a magnificent _fête_ and ball, that he might introduce his lovely daughter to his friends in fitting style.

But on the night of the ball, Arline, dressed in richest garments, sat alone in one of the splendid salons of the castle, with a sad look upon her face; for she was thinking of her faithful lover, Thaddeus, and felt that she could never enjoy her new prosperity unless he shared it with her. The Count and his foppish nephew had just left her, at her own request; and as they went off to receive the first guests, she knew that Florestein, whom she greatly despised, was already petitioning her hand in marriage.

With a heavy sigh, her thoughts turned quickly to the free and happy past; and at that moment, the low window of the salon was suddenly opened, and Devilshoof entered from the grounds beyond. He begged her not to be alarmed, since he had but brought a message from his tribe, asking her to return to her old friends; and as he spoke, the window was opened again, and Thaddeus entered the room.

With a cry of joy, Arline rushed into her lover's arms, and when Thaddeus besought her to remember him sometimes, even amidst wealth and splendour, she declared that she cared naught for wealth and splendour unless he would love her still. As they stood there, folded in each other's arms, Count Arnheim's voice was heard as he conducted his guests towards the room; and Arline, fully aware that this was not the time to present her gipsy lover to her father, hastily thrust Thaddeus into a curtained recess, whilst Devilshoof escaped through the window.

In another moment Count Arnheim entered the salon with the early guests, and with a proud smile, took Arline by the hand, and introduced her to his noble friends.

Now, whilst Arline and Thaddeus had been rejoicing together, the gipsy queen had watched them without the window, with bitter rage and jealousy in her heart; for she still loved Thaddeus, and followed him wherever he went. She saw Arline hide him within the recess, and as the gaily-dressed guests afterwards trooped in, she quickly thought out a plan for revenging herself upon her rival. Opening the window, she softly entered the salon, and making her way to Count Arnheim, threw off her cloak, and declared that she had a message for him.

Greatly surprised at the appearance of this strange figure, the Count bade her speak on; and with a triumphant glance towards the now pale and trembling Arline, the gipsy queen cried: "The daughter you prize so fondly is deceiving you! She loves a gipsy of my tribe, and he is even now hidden in this room!"

She pointed to the recess as she spoke, and Count Arnheim, stepping forward, drew aside the curtain, and Thaddeus appeared before the eyes of the astonished guests.

Full of indignation and disappointment, the proud Count poured forth bitter reproaches upon the daughter he now felt to be unworthy of his love; and drawing his sword, he passionately bade Thaddeus depart ere he took his life.

The gipsy queen seized Thaddeus by the hand, and triumphantly tried to drag him away with her; but Arline ran to her lover's side, and turning towards the bewildered guests, begged them to leave her alone with her father. When the guests had all retired to the salon beyond, and only her father and lover remained, she fell on her knees and implored the Count to consent to her marriage with Thaddeus, whom she loved so dearly, declaring that she would rather die than live without him; but the Count only exclaimed the more against the disgrace to his name should his daughter wed an outcast gipsy.

On hearing this, the ancestral pride of Thaddeus could no longer be restrained, and caring naught for the danger it might bring, he haughtily declared that he was of as equally pure and noble birth as the Count himself, even though he wore the garb of a gipsy. He then told the whole story of his exile from Poland, and his reason for joining the gipsy tribe, and drawing forth his commission, from which he had never departed, he handed it to the Count as the proof of what he said.

Count Arnheim was greatly moved at the sad story told by the exile, and when he had glanced at the commission and read there that Thaddeus was indeed of noble birth, he took him by the hand, saying that the feuds of their countries should be forgotten, and that they should be friends. He then placed Arline's hand in that of Thaddeus, and the lovers embraced with great joy.

Meanwhile, the queen of the gipsies, who had left the salon when the guests retired, had gone in search of a young gipsy whom she knew to be devoted to her service, and bidding him bring his musket and follow her, she once more crept round to the open window of the salon. With gleaming eyes she watched the three figures within, and then, when she saw the lovers folded in each other's arms, she turned to the gipsy at her side, and, in a transport of jealous rage, bade him shoot Thaddeus instantly.

But Devilshoof had also followed closely upon her track, suspecting her evil design, and just as the musket was raised, by a dexterous movement he diverted the young gipsy's aim, and turned the muzzle upon the queen. There was a loud report, and a shriek, and the queen of the gipsies fell to the ground, slain by the shot she had intended for her lover.

FIDELIO

One bright summer day, during the seventeenth century, in the courtyard of a certain prison castle in Spain, the jailer's daughter, a pretty girl, named Marcellina, stood ironing linen in the doorway of her father's lodge; and though not in reality pressed for time, it pleased her to make a great pretence of being very busy, in order to avoid the attentions of Jacquino, the porter of the prison, who was constantly passing to and fro, and engaging in conversation with her.

It was quite in vain, however, that the amorous porter tried to get the maiden interested in his pretty speeches, for pert Miss Marcellina would have none of him to-day, and was even cruel enough to hint that her thoughts were with some more favoured suitor elsewhere; and Jacquino felt himself very badly used. For until lately, he alone had been the favoured swain of this rustic coquette; but since the recent advent of a new assistant, a handsome youth rejoicing in the name of Fidelio, the jailer's pretty daughter had looked coldly upon her old sweetheart, and bestowed all her most bewitching smiles upon the newcomer.

It was of Fidelio she was thinking now, knowing that the youth would shortly be returning from an errand upon which he had been sent some hours before; and so, when a loud knock was presently heard at the outer gate, she was filled with joyful anticipation, and eagerly bade Jacquino unfasten the bolts at once, which the porter did very reluctantly and with much grumbling at such untimely interruption to his own suit. He was somewhat grimly pleased, therefore, when, on opening the gate, he admitted Rocco, the jailer, instead of the new assistant; but even this small satisfaction was short-lived, for almost immediately afterwards, his rival, Fidelio, appeared, and so laden with packages and baskets, that Marcellina ran to relieve him of them at once, commiserating tenderly with him on being thus heavily laden on so hot a day.

Now, in reality, though none suspected it, Fidelio was not the person he represented himself to be, but instead a lady of high degree, who had thus taken on the disguise of a youth from a very noble motive. Within this prison castle there were a number of political prisoners, who, though innocent, were the victims of despotic power, and pined in captivity, because some private enemy refused to speak the word that would have set them at liberty.