schiavo d’un primo uomo.” [Footnote:  Literally, “The slave of a primo uomo,” primo uomo being the masculine form corresponding to prima donna, that is, a singer of hero’s parts in operatic music.  At one time also female parts were sung and acted by men or boys.] Now, thought I, now’s the time; so turning to Antonia, I remarked, “Antonia knows nothing of such singing as that, I believe?” At the same time I struck up one of old Leonardo Leo’s [Footnote:  Leonardo Leo, the chief Neapolitan representative of Italian music in the first part of the eighteenth century, and author of more than forty operas and nearly one hundred compositions for the Church.] beautiful soul-stirring songs.  Then Antonia’s cheeks glowed; heavenly radiance sparkled in her eyes, which grew full of reawakened inspiration; she hastened to the piano; she opened her lips; but at that very moment Krespel pushed her away, grasped me by the shoulders, and with a shriek that rose up to a tenor pitch, cried, “My son—­my son—­my son!’ And then he immediately went on, singing very softly, and grasping my hand with a bow that was the pink of politeness, “In very truth, my esteemed and honorable student-friend, in very truth, it would be a violation of the codes of social intercourse, as well as of all good manners, were I to express aloud and in a stirring way my wish that here, on this very spot, the devil from hell would softly break your neck with his burning claws, and so in a sense make short work of you; but, setting that aside, you must acknowledge, my dearest friend, that it is rapidly growing dark, and there are no lamps burning to-night, so that, even though I did not kick you downstairs at once, your darling limbs might still run a risk of suffering damage.  Go home by all means; and cherish a kind remembrance of your faithful friend, if it should happen that you never,—­pray, understand me,—­ If you should never see him in his own house again.”  Therewith he embraced me, and, still keeping fast hold of me, turned with me slowly towards the door, so that I could not get another single look at Antonia.  Of course it is plain enough that in my position I couldn’t thrash the Councillor, though that is what he really deserved.  The Professor enjoyed a good laugh at my expense, and assured me that I had ruined for ever all hopes of retaining the Councillor’s friendship.  Antonia was too dear to me, I might say too holy, for me to go and play the part of the languishing lover and stand gazing up at her window, or to fill the role of the lovesick adventurer.  Completely upset, I went away from H—–­; but, as is usual in such cases, the brilliant colors of the picture of my fancy faded, and the recollection of Antonia, as well as of Antonia’s singing (which I had never heard), often fell upon my heart like a soft faint trembling light, comforting me.