might be not disinclined to allow a certain period of such comparative obscurity as an engagement at Ravenna would bring with it, to pass after her exit from Milan under such circumstances, before re-appearing on other boards where she would be equally in the eyes of all Europe.  But this ground of hope, though it may have been felt, was never so much as alluded to in words, in Ravenna.  In short, Ravenna had determined to make the bold attempt.  And Don Signor Ercole Stadione had returned from the arduous enterprise to announce that it had been crowned with complete success.

None but those who have had some opportunity of becoming acquainted with the social habits and manners of the smaller cities of Italy—­ and that as they were some twenty years ago, and not as they are now—­can imagine the degree in which a matter of the kind in question could be felt there to be a subject of general public interest.  From the Cardinal Legate, who governed the province, down to the little boys who hung about the cafe doors, in the hope of picking up a half-eaten roll, there was not a human being in the city who did not feel that he had some part of the glory resulting from the fact that “La Lalli” was to sing at Ravenna during the Carnival.  The contadini—­the peasants outside the gates—­even though they were only just outside it, cared nothing at all about the matter:  another specialty of the social peculiarities of the peninsula.

The Cardinal Legate, restrained by the professional decorum of his cloth, said nothing save among his quite safe intimates; but, perhaps, like the sailor’s parrot, he only thought the more.

As for the jeunesse doree of the Circolo, to whom Signor Leandro recounted his great tidings with all the self-importance to which the exclusive possession of news of such interest so well entitled him, it is impossible to do justice to the enthusiasm which the news excited among them.

All sorts of pleasing anticipations were indulged in.  They were all jealous of each other by anticipation.  Already, in the gravest spirit of business, a scheme for taking off her horses at the city gates and harnessing their noble selves to the carriage of the expected guest was discussed.

The reputation enjoyed by the great singer Bianca Lalli at that time was very high throughout Italy.  But, perhaps,—­any one of her rival goddesses would have said undoubtedly,—­it was a reputation not wholly and exclusively due to her strictly vocal charms.  She was, in truth, a woman of more than ordinary beauty; and was universally declared to exercise a charm on all who came within reach of her influence beyond that which even extraordinary beauty has always the privilege of exercising.  All kinds of stories were told of her boundless power of fascination.  In crude language, again,—­such as her own countrymen never used concerning her,—­the reputation of “la diva Lalli” was tout soit peu, a reputation de scandale.  And it will be readily imagined that the enthusiasm in her favour of the young frequenters of the Circolo at Ravenna was none the less vehement on this account.