In 1826 she, and that wonderful assembly, the Garcia family, had found themselves in New York, where an old French merchant, supposed to be rich, married her.  It is certain that Malibran married the old merchant for his money—­a thing so common that one cannot stop to express indignation.  The horrible thing is that, as it turned out, the old man had also an eye to the weather.  He had hoped to stave off bankruptcy by marrying the prosperous singer.  He succeeded in getting neither her money nor her heart, for she left him within a year and returned to Paris.

Here, then, we find her again, with her rival Sontag out of the way, and Sontag’s lover to console.  She furnished him with contrast enough, for she differed from Sontag in these respects, that she was only twenty-two, she was a contralto, dark and Spanish, and was known to be married.  Her consolation of De Beriot was complete.  They lived together the rest of her life, touring in concerts occasionally, with enormous financial success, she creating an immortal name as an operatic singer, and he as a violinist.  In 1831 they built a palatial home in the suburbs of Brussels, where they spent the time when they were not travelling.  She bore him a son and a daughter, the latter dying in infancy.

Meanwhile, she was trying to divorce her husband, who was now living in Paris.  The freedom was a long while coming, and it was 1836 before the Gordian knot was cut.  On March 26th of the same year, she and De Beriot were married.  The very next month, in London, she was thrown from a horse and more severely injured than she realised.  As soon as she could, she resumed her concerts; brain-fever attacked her.  She died at the age of twenty-eight.

Two hours after her death, De Beriot hastened away to make sure of the possession of the wealth this young woman had already heaped up.  He did not wait for the funeral, and all Europe was scandalised.  But it is claimed in his defence that he had been devoted to her, and during her illness had never left her side, and that his mercenary haste was due to his fear that a moment’s delay might give Monsieur Malibran a chance to claim her property, and thus rob the child she had borne De Beriot of his inheritance.  Those who know the peculiar attitude the French law takes toward the property of a wife, can understand the difficulty of the situation.

In any case, the child was saved from poverty or from the necessity of professionalism in later life, though he was a distinguished pianist.  As for De Beriot, after the success of his mission he returned to the country home and remained in seclusion, not playing again in public for one year.  Two years later he married Fraeulein Huber, the daughter of a Vienna magistrate and the adopted ward of a prince.  De Beriot travelled little after this, and lived to be sixty-eight years old.  He died in blindness that had been creeping on him for the last eighteen years of his life.