Coloratura = Snake

"You go to zoo, hey? See little snake? Is come from India, is all red, yellow, black, very pretty little snake. You take home, hey? Make little pet, like puppy dog? No – you got more sense. I tell you, is same with this Veda. You buy ticket, you look at little snake, but you no take home. No.”

“Are you insinuating that my daughter is a snake?”

“No – is a coloratura soprano, is much worse. A little snake, love mamma, do what papa tells maybe, but a coloratura soprano loves nobody but own goddamn self. Is son-bitch-bast’, worse than all a snake in a world. Madame, you leave this girl alone.”

As Mildred sat blinking, trying to get adjusted to the wholly unexpected turn the interview had taken, Mr. Treviso took another turn around the room, then apparently became more interested in his subject than he had intended. He sat down now, tapped her knee again, said: "This girl, she is coloratura, inside, outside, all over.”

“What is a coloratura soprano?”

“Madame, is special fancy breed, like blue persian cat. Come once in a lifetime, sing all a trill, a staccato ha-ha-ha, cadenza, a tough stuff - ”

“Oh, now I understand.”

“Cost like hell, if is real coloratura, bring more dough to a grand opera house than big tenor. And this girl, is coloratura, even a bones is coloratura. First, must know all a rich pipple. No rich, no good.”

“She’s always associated with nice people.”

“Nice maybe, but must be rich. All coloratura, they got, how you say? – the gimmies. Always take, never give. OK, you spend plenty money on this girl, what she do for you?”

“She’s a mere child, she can’t be expected to -”

“So, she do nothing for you. Look.”

Mr. Treviso tapped Mildred’s knee again, grinned. “She even twiddle la valiere all a coloratura, sit back like a duchess, twiddle la valiere."  And he gave a startling impression of Veda, sitting haughtily erect in her chair, twiddling the ornament of her neck chain.

“She’s done that since she was a little girl.”

“Yes – is a funny part.”

Warming up now, Mr. Treviso went on: “All a coloratura crazy for rich pipple, all take no give, all act like duchess, all twiddle a la valiere, all a same, every one. All borrow ten thousand bucks, go to Italy, study voice, never pay back money, think all was friendship. Sing in grand opera, marry banker, get the money. Got the money, kick out banker, marry a baron, get the title. Have a sweetie on the side, guy she likes to sleep with. Then all travel together, all over Europe, grand opera to grand opera, hotel – the baron, he travel in compartment A, he take care of dog. The banker, he travel in compartment B, tale care of luggage. The sweetie, he travel in Drawing Room A, he take care of coloratura – all one big happy family. Then come a decoration from a King of Belgium – first a command performance, then a decoration. All coloratura have decoration from King of Belgium, rest of life twiddle la valiere, talk about decoration.”

“Well, Los Angeles is some distance from Belgium.”

“No, no distance. This girl, make no mistake, is big stuff. You know what makes a singer? Must have music inside. Caruso, he could not read one note, but have music in his soul come out every note he sing. Must have rhythm, feel beat of music before conductor raises a stick. This girl hit a G on the nose, step into a C like was nothing at all – don’t miss one note. I jump up, I say Jesus where you come from? She laugh like hell. Then I look this girl over, I see the deep chest, the big bosom- the high nose- the big antrim sinus in front of face. I see what come once in lifetime only – a great coloratura. I go to work, bring this girl along fast, she learn in six months what most singer learn in five year. Fast, fast. Oh, no, Madame, is not far from Los Angeles to Belgium for this girl.”

Mildred, who had been listening to this eulogy as one might listen to soul nourishing organ music, came to herself with a start and murmured: “She's a wonderful girl.”

“No – is a wonderful singer.”

As she looked at him, puzzled and hurt, Mr. Treviso stepped nearer to make his meaning clear. “The girl is lousy, she’s a bitch. The singer – is not.”

This seemed to be all and Mildred got up. “Well – we’re all entitled to our opinion, but I would like it if you don’t mind, if you’d send your bills hereafter to me-”

“No, Madame.”

“Have you any particular objection?”

“Yes, Madame, I no enjoy a snake bite. You come in here, you try to make me play little part, in intrigue to get your daughter back.”

“Mr. Treviso, that is your surmise.”

“Is no surmise. For last two weeks, ever since radio broadcast, this little bitch has have told me a poor dumb mother will try to get her back, and a first thing she do is come here, offer to pay for singing lesson.”

“She – !”

“Yes. This girl live for two thing. One is make a mother feel bad, other is to get back with all the rich pipple she knew in Pasadena. I tell you, is snake, is bitch, is coloratura. You want Veda, back, you see Veda self. I have nothing to do with this intrigue. She ask me, I say you not been here at all. Anyhow, I no see.”