Then the Marchese handed her with graceful gallantry to his carriage, took the place in the back of it by the side of her; and the little cavalcade began its return to the city.  At a small distance from the walls, they found the band stationed, and thus preceded by music, and passing through all the elite of the population in the streets, the Marchese conducted her to the Palazzo Castelmare, and handed her up the grand staircase to the great saloon, where all the theatrical world of Ravenna, and many of the more notable patrons of the theatre, were assembled to receive her.

Signor Ercole Stadione, the little impresario, was there of course, and in high enjoyment of the triumph of the occasion, and of the importance which his share in it reflected on him.  He buzzed about the large saloon from one group to another, raising himself on tiptoe as he looked up into the faces of his noble friends and patrons, and rubbing his hands together cheerily in the exuberance of his satisfaction.

“You had the happiness of accompanying the illustrissimo Signor Marchese to receive our honoured guest to-day, Signor Barone!” said he to Manutoli, who was giving an account of his expedition, and of the first appearance of the new “Diva,” to a knot of young men grouped around him; “mi rallegro!  Mi rallegro!  Ravenna could not have had a more worthy representative than yourself, Signor Barone!  But is she not divine!  What beauty!  What a grace!”

“Why, Signor Ercole, one would think you had begotten her yourself.  She is a pretty creature certainly.  What a smile she has!”

“Eh bene, Signori miei!  Are you satisfied?  Are you content?  Have we done well?” said the little man, buzzing off to another group.  “Che vi pare?  Is she up to the mark, or is she not?”

“Bravo, Signor Ercole!  We are all delighted with her!” said one.

“If she sings as she looks,” cried another, “Ravenna has a prima donna such as no other city in Italy has.”

“Or in Europe, per Bacco!” added a third.

“What do you think of her, Signor Leandro?  Did I say too much?” asked the happy impresario, moving off to a console, against which the poet was leaning in an abstracted attitude, while his eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, managed nevertheless to look out for the manifestation on the Diva’s face of that impression which he doubted not his figure and pose must make on her.

“What a bore she must find it having to talk to all those empty-brained fellows that have got round her there, just like buzzing blue-bottle flies round sugar-barrel!  I wonder it does not occur to the Marchese that it would be more to the purpose to present to her some of the brighter intelligences of the city.  She must think Ravenna is a city of blockheads!  And one can see, with half an eye, that is the sort of woman who can appreciate intellect!”

“It will be for you, Signor Conte, to prove to her that our city is not deficient in that respect.  Sapristi?  Would you desire a better subject?  What do you say to an ode, now, on the rising of a new constellation on the shores of the Adriatic?  Hein!  Or an inpromptu on seeing the divine Lalli enter Ravenna through the same arch under which the Empress Theodora must have passed?”