She knew not why, but as her glance met his, it
quickly turned toward Corilla, and quite sadly she said to herself: "She
is much handsomer than I!"
Carlo now opened his lips, and to a beautifully simple melody he sweetly
sang an introductory song, as it were to prepare the audience for the
coming solemnity. Having finished this, two lovely _amourettes_ came
forward, with silver vases in their hands, and hastened down the steps
to the audience, politely requesting them to furnish themes for the
great improvisatrice Corilla.
Then, returning to the altar, they threw into the urn the small scraps
of paper on which the guests has proposed themes. The harp again
resounded, and with a solemn earnestness, her face and glance still
directed upward, Corilla drew one of the little strips of paper from the
urn. Accident, or perhaps her own dexterity, had favored her.
"Sappho's lament before throwing herself from the rocks"--that was the
theme proposed.
Corilla's face immediately took an expression of sadness; her eyes
flashed with an unnatural fire; her previously raised arm fell powerless
by her side; her head, like a broken rose, sank upon her breast; her
other hand convulsively grasped the urn, and in this position she in
fact resembled an abandoned mourner, weeping over the ashes of her lost
happiness.
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