Maria could not long endure the frowning tutelage of M. Malibran’s sister, whom she at first selected as her chaperon, and so one day she decamped without warning, in a coach, and established her “household gods” with Mme. Naldi, an old friend of her father, and a woman of austere manners, whom she obeyed like a child.  Her protector had charge of all her money, and opened all her letters before Maria saw them.  When her fortune was at his height, Mme. Mali-bran showed her friend and biographer, Countess do Merlin, a much-worn Cashmere shawl, saying:  “I use this in preference to any that I have.  It was the first Cashmere shawl I ever owned, and I have pleasure in remembering how hard I found it to coax Mme. Naldi to let me buy it.”

In 1828 the principal members of the operatic company at the Italiens were Malibran, Sontag, Donzelli, Zuchelli, and Graziani.  Malibran sang in “Otello,” “Matilda di Shabran,” “La Cenerentola,” and “La Gazza Ladra.”  Jealous as she was by temperament, she always wept when Madamoiselle Sontag achieved a great success, saying, naively, “Why does she sing so divinely?” The coldness between the two great singers was fomented by the malice of others, but at last a touching reconciliation occurred, and the two rivals remained ever afterward sincere friends and admirers of each other’s talents.  There are many charming anecdotes of Madame Malibran’s generosity and quick sympathy.  At the house of one of her friends she often met an aged widow, poor and unhappy, and strongly desired to assist her; but the position and character of the lady required delicate management.  “Madame,” she said at last, “I know that your son makes very pretty verses.”  “Yes, madame, he sometimes amuses himself in that way.  But he is so young!” “No matter.  Do you know that I could propose a little partnership affair?  Troupenas [the music publisher] has asked me for a new set of romances.  I have no words ready.  If your son will give them to me, we could share the profits.”  Mme. Malibran received the verses, and gave in exchange six hundred francs.  The romances were never finished.

She performed all such acts of charity with so much refined delicacy, such true generosity, that the kindness was doubled.  Thus, at the end of this season, a young female chorister, engaged for the opening of the King’s Theatre, found herself unable to quit Paris for want of funds.  Mme. Malibran promised to sing at a concert which some of the leading vocalists gave for her benefit.  The name of Malibran of course drew a crowd, and the room was filled; but she did not appear, and at last they were obliged to commence the concert.  The entertainment was half over when she came, and approached the young girl, saying to her in a low voice:  “I am a little late, my dear, but the public will lose nothing, for I will sing all the pieces announced.  In addition, as I promised you all my evening, I will keep my word.  I went to sing in a concert at the house of the Duc d’Orleans, where I received three hundred francs.  They belong to you.  Take them.”