! THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. A COMEDIETTA, IN ONE ACT. FROM THE FRENCH OF FRANCOIS COPPEE. ^'^Kv ^rformea at the Comedie Frangais, Paris, May 2S, 1876. TOGETHER WITH A. DESCRIPTIGN OF THE COSTUMES— CAST OP THE CHARACTERS — EN- TRANCES AND EXITS — RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PERFORM- ERS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE OP THE STAGUl BUSINESS. Chicago and New York THE DRAMATIC PUBLIS HING COMPANY. CJopy right, 1892, by R. H. Russell & Son. 2 THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. CAST OF CHARACTERS. Com^ die Frangais^ Paris, May 28, 1876. 1'adeo Farrari, the violiu maker M. Thison. FiLIPPO, his pupil M. COQUELIN. Sandro, his pupil M. Laroche. GiANNiNA, his daughter. Mile. Barretta. Pages, citizens, violiu makers. Olympic Theatfe, London, July.lU, '77, Mr. W. J. Hill. Mr. Henry Neville. Mr. Forbes Robertson. Miss Gerard. The scene is laid in Cremona, about the j^ear 1750. TIME IN PLAYING— THIRTY MINUTES. SCENERY. Interior in 3d grooves. Street backing. Door Door. Door. O O OOOOOCOOOOOOOOO The violiu maker's workshop and sales-room; high wainscoted wall, hung with musical instruments, portraits of old musicians, etc. Doors r. and l. ; glass door c. iu F ; street flat for backing; A, counter with musical instruments on it; arm- chair and table r. o.; B, desk; tools and uncompleted violins laying about on shelves and table. COSTUMES. Ferrari.— First dress: Brown coat, dark waistcoat, black breeches, brown stock- ings, cocked hat, unpowdeied wig. Second dress: Powdered wig, gokl- headed cane, sky-bine coat, laced waistcoat, dark breeches, buckled shoes. FiLippo. A hunchback. — Three-cornered hat, buckled shoes, "brown coat, light waistcoat, ruffled shirt. SvNDRO. — Gay attire: gilt buttons, light hair, lace ruffles and cuffs, GlANNiNA — Wliite holiday attire: RonuiM s'lsli. i)uckled shoes, hair in ribbons. Pages, citizeris baniiennen and violin makers, iu holiday attire and decorated w:tn rosettes and favors. RBIWPDTE STORAGS'- THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. ? PROPERTIES. Two violins, one in a red and one in a black case; wine basket with bottles in it; vase; napkin; gold chain ou cushion; rosettes; ribbons; banner; flowers; prayer book. STAGE DIRECTIONS. R means Right of Stage, facing the Audience; L. Left; C. Centre; R. C. Right of Centre; L. C. Left of Centre; D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across the back of Uie Stage; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat; R. D. F. Right Door in the Flat- L D. F. Left Door in the Flat; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 1 E. First Euti'auce; 2 E. Second Entrance; .U. E. Upper Entrance; 1, 2 or 3 G. First, Second or Third Groove. R. R. C. C. L. C. L. The reader is supposed to be upon the stage, facing the audience. SYNOPSIS. Coppee's charming poem, - Le Luthier de Cremone." was first produced at the Theatre Frangais. May 23d, 1876, Coquelin creating the part of Filippo, the hunch- back lover. Since that time it has been done into English ; and various versions, both in prose and verse, have been produced in London by Mr. Henry Neville, Mr. E. S. Willard, and other. It is a simple story, but affords opportunity for sounding a most delicate note of pathos in the character of Filippo, which Coquelin acted so inimitably. Tadeo Feur^rt, the master violin maker of Cremona, has promised the hand of his daugh- ter to the apprentice who shall win the gold chain offered by the Podesta to the one who sliall make the best violin. Filippo, the hunchback, and Sandro, both pupils of Feruari, and both in love with his daughter, Giannina, are striving for the prize. The day on which the award is to be made has arrived, and the violins are finished. Filippo has not dared to tell Giannina that he is competing for tlie prize, but hopes in winning it to gain her love. Giannina loves Sandro, and ques. tions him as to the chance of his victory in the contest. Sandro has heard Filippo trying the tone of his instrument, and tells Giannina that if he is defeated it will be by the hunchback. " Giannina reproaches Filippo for his failure to confide in her, and tells him that she loves Sandro. The poor cripple, realizing that he cannot win Giannina^s love, g(^iierously resolves to insure his rival's victory by substituting Jds violin for San DRo's, as they are lying side by side. When he has done this, Sandro comes in to take his violin before the judges. Filippo asks him to carry his instrument to tbe competition. Sandro agrees, but, seized with jealousy and fear of his rival's suc- cess, changes the instruments in their cases before presenting them to the judges. Overcome with remorse, he returns to Filippo and confesses his treachery. Filippo tells him that he has sacrificed his certainty of success, in so doing, as he himself had previously changed the violins. Shouts are heard proclaiming Filippo the victor, and the pages enter bearing the gold chain. Filippo puts it about Gian- NiNA's neck and places her hand in Sandro's. relinquishing his claim to her, and taking his violin Avhich alone can console him for his self-sacrifice. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/violinmakerofcreOOcopp THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. SCENE.— Interior of the shop of Ferrari, the Violin Maker, C(irtai7t rises discoveriNg Master Ferrari and Giannina; he is seated in an arm-chair^ and is slightly intoxicated. Ferrari. No, Giannina, I have given the word of an honest man; and as sure as my name is Tadeo Ferrari, Master of the Violin Makers of Cremona, I am going to keep it. GfANNiNA {p'eadiiigly). But, dear father Fer. It is of no use to talk; would you have me disgrace our trade by breaking my promise— I, its leader and manager, and bearer of the banner in our procession ? No; when the contest is decided you shall be married, as 1 have said. GiAN. Do you not consider me in the matter at all ? FEft. Consider you ! It is a great honor for you. Our old Podesta — peace to his soul! — wishing to make our instruments still more famous in tlie future, has left his gold chain to the apprentice in our city who will make the best violin; and I, a simple artisan, inspired by this tine example, have pledged my daughter and my house to the wiimer of the prize. Will you not consider it tin honor to have for a husband the tinest young violin maker of Cremona? GiAN. But, fatiier, I have told you there is some one I care for. Fkr. Oh, Sandro? Well, he lias tlie same chance as the others, and if he is not successful you must forget him. GiAN. Ah ! it is easy to say forget him ; but suppose the winner is some scamp, unworthy of me ? Fer. a skillful workman is always an honest man. GrAN. Some lazy fellow, with no care for the future ? FEii. As he can command the highest wages, he can aflford to be lazy at times. GiAN. A brute who would beat his wife. You know there are such. Fkii. If he has not peace at home, I for one would not blame him. GiAN. A drunkard perhaps — one who would be drunk on Sundays. Fer. Well, my daughter, even I am sometimes cheerful on Sunday. Besides, a good musician does not need to be sober. GrAN. Suppose he should refuse to take me ? Fer. By Saint Cecelia, the sc^np would be hard to i^lease. Such a chance as this is not to be had every day. Two thousand crowns dower witli a girl like you, Giannina, besides my business— mine, the beloved pupil of Stradavarius. Nonsense 1 Don't worry me any more about it. I am getting old and need a successor, and whoever the winner may be he shall have my house and and my daughter. GiAN. But should It chance to be 6 THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. Fkr. {tnterruptiiKj). Yi\\oi\g\\ of these objections. GiAN. If the winner — it makes me laugh to even think of it, — if it should be your apprentice, Filippo ? Fkii. I should not be at all surprised to see him win; and if he brings me the golden chain you shall marry him. G I A X . M arry Fillippo ! Fkr. Why not ? GiAN. A hunchback ? Feu. Do you think I cannot see that ? But were he twice so, with two humps like a camel— as I own he has appeared to me at times— you should marry him all the same. GiAN. [xofUy to Jiers(^lf). May our good Lad>' protect me ! Fkr. Is he not one of the best of boys ? If he is not handsome he is a great artist. You know I am a severe critic, but the day he took part in our little concert, while I sat listening and looking into my glass of old Astri — you remember the gold seal— he made the strings moan be- neath his bow, and in his playing i)ut such grief and joy that I felt two big tears come; I tried to stop them, but down they rolled; and that was the only time I was ever foolish enough to water my wine. GiAX. I resi)ect him, as you do, father; 1 pity him, and have done my best to help him forget his miser\' ever since he came to our door that winter's day begging his bread; -but how could I love him ? Fer. Come, come, come! If that is your only objection let us stop talking, and I will go and get some wine worthy of this great day. GiAN. Let me go for you, the stairs are steep. Fer No, no, 1 can manage them all right going down ; they are never steel) and crooked until I come up. Next to drinking, give me the ple.isure of choosing the wine. [Exit, l. d. (GiANNiNA, left alone a moment, sighs despondently ^ and sinks into a chair.) Enter Sandro, l., carrying violin in a black wooden case, which he places on counter, Sandro. Alone, Giannina? GfAN. Sandro ! {goiitg to him,) Sand. Have you good news for me; or does the master still keep to his resolve ? GiAN. More firmly than ever. He is determined that I shall marry the prize winner, whoever he may be ? Sand. He is cruel ! Did you tell him how much you loved me ? GiAN. (shyly). I told him "that 1 loved you, but not how much; that I can only tell to you. {extends her hands to Sandro, rcho embraces her ; she f(4e(ises Jierself, walks over to the counter and points to violin) Is it hnished ? Sand. Can you ask ? Does not my only hope depend on it ? And to think that to day in a public contest' the hapi)iness or misery of my life is to be decid 'd. GfAN. Ai"e you satisfied with your work ? Sand. That depends. I have made it by every rule of our art. choos- ing the wood and vaj^nish with the greatest care; it is an mstrument worthy a master, and yet GiAN. {ijifei'riiptnui hiwA. And yet— why do you doubt? You will win the prize— you must win it ! My father is the b(*st artist ni Cremona, and it is from him that you have learned; what other master's pupil need you fear ? THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. 7 Sand. None. GiAN. Well, then ? Sand. 1 have a rival in our own workshop. GiAN. Fillippo? Are you sure he will try for the prize? Sand. Yes; 1 heard hiin yesterday tellin^i!; your father that he would, the little viper. Cursed be the day you took compassion on him I He thinks you are free, and hopes to win you. GrAN. No, no, Sandro; you wrong the boy. He only wants the gold chain and the title of master; he does not want me. Sand. I am not so sure of that, but I am sure he will win. O my darling, I have never suliered so in my life; 1 am tortured with jeal- ousy. GrAN. You jealous, Sandro ? You foolish boy I Sand. Yes, I am; for I know his work, and it fills me with envy; and soon they will, all know it as I do. Listen : The other night I was at my wuidow, and under the quiet of the summer skies I thought of you. h) the friigrant darkness of the garden a nightingale was singing, and its cieai notes mounted in ecstacy to the stars. All at once I heard another song as touching, as divine as that of the bird. Breathless I listened, and [)resently within the shadow I saw the tigure of the hunchback, al alone. His violin, arched by the bow that trembled in his hand, poured forth its music sweet as the voice of Philomele expressing love and grief commingled. The plaintive instrument ;md the loving bird, in turn, breathed to the night their trills of crystal, till I, enthralled by this harmonious strife, no longer knew which was the violin and which the bird, so did their sweet notes blend in winging flight. GiAN. Does the success of a rival make you jealous ? Sand. I know it is a feeling unworthy an artist, but oh ! if he should be the victor. GfAN. His victory will not change my love for j^ou; whatever comes, I promise to be yours. Sand, {embracing her). You are the dearest girl in the world, {noise a?i(l shontx heard nnthoxd, GiAN. What is that noise ? FiLLTPPO dashes in, c. d., closing door violently after him; he is breath- less and disordered. Ffllippo. The little devils !— they had almost caught me ! GrAN. What is it, Fillippo? — who were they ? F[L. Some little blackguai'ds, armed with stones and glass. GiAN. Why, you are hurt! {to Sandro) Some water^ quick ! Frr.. It is nothing. Sand. {l)ringing icater). Tell us how it happened. FrL. It is really nothing. I met a pack of those good-for-nothing boys just now, pelting an^old, half-blind dog with stones. I could not bear to see them tormenting him^ so I pushed my way into the crowd, telling then^ to have some pity ; -they turned on me furiously. Ah, then they thought no more of the beast; now they were hunting the hunchback; it was much moi^e amusing. I fled down one alley and up another. I don't doubt they would have finished me if they had caught me; but now I am here. I am glad the poor dog got the chance to escape. GrAN. {bathing his forehead). Poor boy ! FiL. {looking np gratefully). Thanks, thanks ! You are very kind. GiAN. Is that better ? ' *«. OF ILL LIB. 8 THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. FiL. Yes, indeed; the pain is quite fj:one. (Gianxina stops bathing his forehead ; he loohs lonmjlf/ at her and kfsses her hand.) Sa^d. (aside). He loves her! I was not rnistalven. E/iter Fi<:iiRAia, l. d., a little more intoxicated, carrying a basket with bottles in it. YvAi. Don't undtn^stand it at all. For twenty 3 ears the}^ have been so, red seals at the rig'ht, green seals at the left; now why should they be changed ? I don't reproach them, 1 don't reproach anybody, but I don't understand it at all. GiAN. Father! Fer. You still here, daughter? Come, help me to dress. I must look my hnest, for when the last bow is scraped, we will have a dinner that the guild will be proud of. [Exit, r. followed by Giannina. vSaind. The decisive. moment will soon be here, Fillippo. FiL. Yes, comrade. Sand. Is vour violin ready? FiL. Yes. Sand. Are you satisfied with it? FiL. Yes, entirely. And you? Sand. Not altogether. FiL. I am sorry; for if I fail, your success would make it easier. Give me your liand, comrade. Sand. No ! [Passes brusqiudy by him and exit, c. D. Fii.. Jealous ! That is the trouble; but he suffers— I must not blame him No, that cannot be it. What folly to think that with all his sti-enofth and beauty he should begrudge me success in this. It would be well though to be friends, although we are rivals. He does not know yet how lonely I am, and how I long for sympathy. But my beautiful violin, you console me for all. Poor instrument, I am like you, bent and crooked, a sensitive soul in an unshapely case, {goes and gets violin, irJiirJi is in red case, from beliind the counter, laying it on the table) Come, let me see you once again, {opens violin case and leans over if) dear one, for whom 1, weak and tired, have had the courage to work so many days and nights. Soon from the depths of your soul you must send forth the scherzo tliat laughs, the song that weeps; the world must hear the sublime tones that sleep in your heart. I want to see you, to touch you again; I will not wake your sweet notes; I only want to see myself mirrored in your golden wood once more — for the last time, {takes violin out (f case) Good-bye, my friend; we must [)art for your glory and mine. But, comrade, whatever your life, bohemian or noble, whether you make the peasant dance, or thrill to the touch of a master in the great world, do not forget me. Have I not ^^jiven you your exquisite voice ? — I, the hunchback, who have breathed into you my soul, {puts violin l>ack m case) I am a child; I deceive myself, poor fool. It is not the desire for glory alone that has given me strength for the task, it is Giannina, she who alone has pitied me in this hard world. When I wandered, a little vagabond, to her father's door, she only did not laugh at me. No; she cannot be otlended at this love ihat 1 have hidden from my childhood; nor at my wish to be famous that she might /ove me. If I win 1 will not insist u])on the fulMllment of her father's vow; but, perhaps -wlio knows —her lieart is still free, and when I give her the golden ciiain, and she feels that the ffame of genius has flashed from this frail body for love of her, perhaps, as she is the child of an THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. 9 artist, she will think of my talent and forget the rest, and there will be so many reasons that — Oh ! this dream will kill me. Enter Giannina, c. d. GiAN. (aside). He is alone ; perhaps I can find out if there is any hope for Sandro. (aloud) Filippo ! FiL. {starting from his revery). Giannina ! GiAN. You deserve to be scolded. To think that you have not told me, and that I alone was kept in ignorance FiL. (interrupting). Told you what Giannina ? GiAN. That you were trying for the prize. FiL. Ah ! Giannina, you would have been the first to hear it from me had it not been for your father's pledge. 1^ orgive me, Giaiuiina, \i if I have not dared to. GiAN. O put that part of it aside; my dear old father really loves me too much to leave my happiness to chance, but every one has a right to hope for the chain, and you most of all, if what I hear is true. FiL. And what have you heard ? GiAN. That your violin is a masterpiece, and that you will certainly win. FiL. I have done my best; but who will care for my failure or my success ? GiAN. Who ? Are we not all your friends ? FiL. Pardon me; I am over sensitive sometimes, and it makes me suspicious. You have always been my friend, and I am an in- grate. I know you will be glad when I tell you I am almost sure of success. Of course when I began my work I was careful in choosing ^ the wood— old fir for the body, maple for the neck — and took the great- est pains in making it; but all that is nothing — other violins may be as good in that way;— but the master stroke was when 1 discovered one night while I was at work the lost secret of that wonderful old var- nish GiAN. What ! the famous varnish of the old masters ? FiL. (excitedly). Yes, I have found it; and to-morrow I can be a gen- erous rival, and give the secret to them all. I am sure of it; I have compared my violin with a famous old Armadi, and it has the same tone— can you believe it ?— the same. Is it not wonderful that from these bits of wood I can bring out a note that will fill a cathedral ? GiAN. (aside). Poor Sandro ! (sits in arm-chair, resting her head on her hand.) FiL. Since that night I have hidden my happiness like a lover. My life has been full of joy. Every morning before it is yet dav I take my violin and pass through the sleeping city into the open country. There, rest- mg myself on the slope of a hill, I wait and dream for the sublime hour when the sun shall rise. At last, when the horizon begins to quiver with light, when the soft rustling about me speaks ot the great awaken- ing of nature, when the grass trembles and the woods murmur and the twittering of birds comes from the thicket, rapturously I take mv vioUn and play. Ah ! do you understand, it is the recompense for all niv pain. I play madly, accompaning the glorious harmonies of the breaking- dav; the long sigh of the wind through the leaves; the ecstasv of the bir(i«;^ and my precious violin trembles close to my heart, and mingles with this hymn of the dawn its song of youth and joy. GiAN. (aside). O Sandro, Sandro ! {(tJninl) Is "it so beautiful? FiL. (taking violin from case). Listen to one note only. 10 THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. GiAN. I wish to hear more than that. Play for me. FiL. (aside). Het voice is almost tender ! Dear Heaven, does she wish me to succeed ? (aloud) Do you really wish it ? GiAN. Indeed I dp. (aside) It is the only way of learning the truth. FiL. Listen then. (hepUij/s; Giannina liste)is an.cioitslt/, shoicing at. once admiration and grief ; finalli/ she rests her arms on the table and puts her head doion, iceeping) What, Giannina ! you weeping' ? Have I made you weep ? — I, who have made so many laugh with scorn ? Is it not like a voice that sighs ? O how how grand this art is that can make me, the despised hunchback, bring tears to your eyes ! I am no longer the outcast of yesterday; I have won the right to lift my head with pride. You have wept, and I need no other glory. No honor will be so precious as these tears from your dear eyes. GiAN. Stay I I must not deceive you. I understand your artist's pride; I share it with you, as I have your grief; but it is not that which makes me weep. FiL. What then? GiAN. It will give you pain, but you will pity me, I know, when I tell you that I too have dreamed of success for one that I love, and that all my happiness is destroyed by your success. *FiL. Ah! GiAN. You see I did not know of your genius: you had kept it hidden from me.; I thought you still a novice at your work. It was natural, was it not, for me to wish success for the man I loved? If I had known you had the greater talent, it would have been hard to know which to be gladdest for. I should have been prepared, and I would not have wept as I have to-day. FiL. You love him ? GiAN. Yes. FiL. Sandro? GiAN. (hoics her head affirmatively). He also hoped to succeed, for it would have united us. But you are my friend, my brother, and there is no bitterness in my sorrow. You deserve the prize. Forgive me; but my love was stronger than 1. (d-eepi/K/.) FiL. (la.yimj violin on ta.hle\ Giannina, do not Aveep, I beg of you. Indeed I sutler as much as you do. Gtan. How cruel I am ! I had forgotten your trouble, and that your music is all you have to console you. It is over. I am no longer sorry; I would rather the glory should be yours. You are a great artist, and I love you. (taking his 'hand) See, I am ciTing no more. I wish you to have it. Look at me, lam smiling; (sobhmg) but my love is stronger than 1. ' [Etyt, c. d. FiL. Well, it is ended. Everything has been said; she loves another, and why not? Shall I blame her? He is the lover she would dream of. And you, hunchback, have you never looked in the glass ? Blind — blind and mad ! She loves Sandro ! What good will it do now to win the ]mze ? I wanted to please her— to have her admire me, and I have succeeded in making her cry. I will not enter the contest ; Sandro shall have the prize, and there will be no more tears. I will destroy my violin, and he will be the victor, ( picks np violin) And you whom I have fashioned with such tender care, you must be broken too. (stops sf(dde)i I //) Whdit madness I Sui)])ose some other than Sandro were to win ? I could give — {vlianging hix to)i^ eutiretn^ No; it is too much — the sacrifice is too great; and y<'t by renouncing niy work and changing our violins in then- cases, it could be easily done. The instrnments look precisely alike. Sa.iJ.ro is not musician enough to distinguish between THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA, 11 his work and mine when they are tried, and afterward I could tell him. They are going at once to the judges; no one will open them again. She must not weep any more, poor little girl. Come, do it for her sake, {cJuinges the violins, 'putting his own in Sandro's case) It is done. Enter Ferrari, c. d. Fer. Come, Sandro, Filippo, it is nearly time. Not ready yet? Enter Sandro, r. d. Sand. Yes, quite. FiL. And our violins too. Fi-:ii. I hope, my boys, that one of you will win, and do credit to your iiKister. The rest may rosin and scrape, but I am pretty sure the prize is ours. I liave just come in, and the people are going in crowds to where the judges meet. You actually breathe music in the street. From every dark corner and gable you hear the groaning of strings. Cremona, with this medley of sounds, seems like an orchestra before the curtain rises. FiL. And it is time for you to be off, for Ihe curtain will soon be up. Sand. Will you follow us, Filippo ? FiL. No ; you know how they mock me when I go out. Be a noble adversary and carry my violin with yours; you were not in earnest just now, were you, comrade ? Do me this little service. Sand. Very well. FiL. Thank you. {exit Sandro, l. d. To Ferrari) Are you not go- ing to see them crown his work ? Fer. Yes; but he has not won the prize yet. You have as good a chance as he. FiL. I have no chance. Fer. Come, you think too little of yourself. If you are not as straight as a steeple, you do good work, and that is what will win the prize. \Exit, L. D. FiL. I need all my courage. Enter Giannina, c, d. Giannina not gone yet ! GiAN. Filippo, I have just come from the church. I went — forgive me, my heart was so full — I went to pray that Sandro still might be successful; but kneeling before Saint Cecelia, I felt that one cannot ask God to be unjust; and I made a vow that whatever comes to be always the same to you. Forgive me, do you not ? {lie kisses her haf.d, aird she goes out, r. d.) FiL. How she loves him ! Had I been strong and handsoir.c she would have loved me. Enter Sandro, l. d., hurriedly, in great trouble. Sand. Filippo ! Filippo ! FiL. What is the matter ? Your face is white; what has happened ? Sand. It was infamous of me; forgive me, forgive me ! FiL. 1 forgive you. my friend ? For what ? Sand. You see I loved her so much. I was beside myself; I could not bear to be outdone by a rival before her. When i had your violin in my liand, the temptation came to me. Frantic with grief and rage, I yielded, and in the shadow of a neighboring doorway I changed our violins in their cases. V\\.. You • 12 THE VIOLIN MAKER OF CREMONA. Sand. I carried them so to the judges, but at the moment the expert opened the cases I tied. Revenge yourself; tell them all what 1 have done; but if they should not believe you, I will write it, and tlien I will go away and die; for the shame will kill me, and I cannot stay when she knows. FiL. 1 have had no need of revenge. You have brought your pun- ishment upon yourself. Sand. What do you mean ? FiL. The glory of my work I yielded to you, and you have given it back to me. Sand. How could you ? FiL. I had already changed the violins, putting mine in your case. Sand. I cannot seem to understand. Why did you do it ? FiL. Because I adored Giannina, and because it is you she loves. If 1 have aught to quarrel with you for, it is that you have undone all that I did for her sake. Sand. No; I have committed a crime, and I must bear the punish- ment. Say one word and 1 will go and never return; and if Giannina forgets me when I give her up, you can make her love you; you alone are worthy. 1 will go— I must go. FiL. Stay— obey me I {hurrahs and shouts of victory without.) Enter Ykrrmu, c, d., lifting his hands as if in blessing when he sees FiLiPPO. He IS followed by the whole gnild of violin makers, and by ttro pages dressed in the colors of the city, one carrying on a cushion the gold chain; the other FiLirro's violin, ornamented with ribbous and flowers. Giannina enters r. d. Fer. (/o Fiupp()>. Come to my arms! You are king! master of the violin makers ! Befoi e all I want to keep my promise at once to the victor. My son, my successor, come to my heart. But first — I had al- most forgotten the golden chain, {lahes thain and advances to Filippo, (rho takes it from him (tnd jmls if aro)(nd Gtanntna's neck.) Ftl. It gives me joy to have it tliat I may give it to Giannina, praying her to keep it as a favorite jewel when she is the wife of Sandro. Gtan. Dear Filippo ! Sand. Mv brother, you are to good to me ! YvAi. Sto|) ! Have you taken a vow not to marry, that j^ou give up your chain like this ? Fir.. No, good master, no; but T am going away to carry your renown through Italy. I have had a dream, but that is over, and I shall be happy if you will but regret my going. {I iiniing to Qwi^m^A) A\)(\ as the days go on, and near your loved one, you help him at his work, if— as at times it happens a string you are holding snaps with a plaintive sound, think then how in tliis hard farewell I have felt my poor heart break. You are helpless, I know, to make it difli'erent, but do not re- gret that I have loved you. Fi