at the Scala and the Fenice, and now at the San Carlo.  Three Italian operas in two years!  You cannot say that love has made him idle.  We have been warmly received everywhere,—­though I myself would have preferred solitude and silence.  Surely that is the only suitable manner of life for women who have placed themselves in direct opposition to society?  I expected such a life; but love, my dear friend, is a more exacting master than marriage,—­however, it is sweet to obey him; though I did not think I should have to see the world again, even by snatches, and the attentions I receive are so many stabs.  I am no longer on a footing of equality with the highest rank of women; and the more attentions are paid to me, the more my inferiority is made apparent.

Gennaro could not comprehend this sensitiveness; but he has been so happy that it would ill become me not to have sacrificed my petty vanity to that great and noble thing,—­the life of an artist.  We women live by love, whereas men live by love and action; otherwise they would not be men.  Still, there are great disadvantages for a woman in the position in which I have put myself.  You have escaped them; you continue to be a person in the eyes of the world, which has no rights over you; you have your own free will, and I have lost mine.  I am speaking now of the things of the heart, not those of social life, which I have utterly renounced.  You can be coquettish and self-willed, and have all the graces of a woman who loves, a woman who can give or refuse her love as she pleases; you have kept the right to have caprices, in the interests even of your love.  In short, to-day you still possess your right of feeling, while I, I have no longer any liberty of heart, which I think precious to exercise in love, even though the love itself may be eternal.  I have no right now to that privilege of quarrelling in jest to which so many women cling, and justly; for is it not the plummet line with which to sound the hearts of men?  I have no threat at my command.  I must draw my power henceforth from obedience, from unlimited gentleness; I must make myself imposing by the greatness of my love.  I would rather die than leave Gennaro, and my pardon lies in the sanctity of my love.  Between social dignity and my petty personal dignity, I did right not to hesitate.  If at times I have a few melancholy feelings, like clouds that pass through a clear blue sky, and to which all women like to yield themselves, I keep silence about them; they might seem like regrets.  Ah me!  I have so fully understood the obligations of my position that I have armed myself with the utmost indulgence; but so far, Gennaro has not alarmed my susceptible jealousy.  I don’t as yet see where that dear great genius may fail.

Dear angel, I am like those pious souls who argue with their God, for are not you my Providence? do I not owe my happiness to you?  You must never doubt, therefore, that you are constantly in