THE tenor always gets the woman. That old maxim has often been used in describing the "lead" role afforded to operatic tenors, at least in terms of the classical 19th century opera repertoire.
This week, the saying has taken on another meaning for 60 year old Luciano Pavarotti, is the greatest tenor of his day.
Last Tuesday Adua Pavarotti, wife of Luciano, wrote an open letter to Italy's leading newspapers denouncing her husband's affair with his 26 year old secretary, Nicoletta Mantovani.
The affair has been the subject of media speculation for months, but moved into the zone of undeniable fact when several gossip magazines last week published photographs of Pavarotti and Ms Mantovani locked in a series of passionate embraces while swimming during a holiday in the West Indies resort of Barbados.
In her open letter, the aggrieved Signora Pavarotti not only chose to hint at her own fundamental role in the rise and rise of Luciano Pavarotti but went on to suggest that the great singer was undergoing some kind of inner crisis which had pushed him into the arms of a young lover and ultimately towards a life of loneliness.
"Perhaps because of his age and the type of full frontal assault on him, he has given way to behaviour that borders on the point of no return and which leads to choices which I hope will make him happy" she wrote.
"For everyone, however, the path of success just like the path of life comes to an end and when the sun begins to set, then the sense of loneliness and isolation which especially hits successful people requires the support of old, well rooted and tried and true relationships,"
Put crudely, Signora Pavarotti's letter implied three things I helped make you are on the way out and you're going to miss me when you're no longer famous.
Is she right? Has one of the world's greatest singers lost his marbles? Is he on the verge of imminent and irreversible decline? Is he a sad, old man attempting to escape the ravages of age by taking a young lover?
HE notion that Pavarotti's remarkable talents might be on the verge of decline is not new. Last November, during a performance of Donizetti's The Daughter of the Regiment at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York, Pavarotti spectacularly and very audibly failed to cope with a demanding role which involves no less than nine high Cs.
Aware that he simply could not rise to the high note, the great man switched down an octave for much of the opera.
Professional opera critics in Italy, England, France and Switzerland contacted by The Irish Times all refused to say that Pavarotti's "bad night" at the Met was proof incontrovertible of his decline.
While conceding that the Met incident served to underline that there were certain roles for which Pavarotti was no longer suitable, no one seems yet ready to write off his remarkable talent. Opera people, by the way, all speak on condition of anonymity, which may say something about Pavarotti's power within that world.
As for the idea that the tenor's affair indicates a loss of marbles", opera professionals just laugh. If an opera singer were to be judged in profound crisis because of an affair, then nearly all opera singers are in crisis.
One critic recalled Pavarotti's infatuation with an American soprano 12 years ago. The young singer hitched her star to Pavarotti, only to fade into oblivion as soon as the affair ended.
Furthermore, professionals point out that Luciano Pavarotti has always looked after himself and his voice. The fact that in almost all off stage photographs, Pavarotti is wearing a scarf around his large neck (to protect that precious voice) makes the point.
On 19p of that, his choice of repertoire over the last 20 years has been "conservative", concentrating on parts such as Rodolfo in La Boheme and being sparing with performances of heavier roles such as Otello in Verdi's opera of the same name, a role he is scheduled to sing at Covent Garden this year.
Rather than expressing moral reservations about Pavarotti's love life, the "serious music" World is more likely to express reservations about his continuing dalliance with pop music.
Pavarotti has always defended his ventures into the world of pop by saying that he has introduced millions to opera with his highly successful, chart topping rendition of Nessun Dorma.
Classical music buffs argue, however, that pop fans know only the one aria and only a minority ever get to hear the rest of the Puccini opera Turandot, from which it is taken.
One important element in Signora Pavarotti's letter this week concerned her claim that, whatever else, there were no outstanding financial problems between herself and her singer husband.
As boss of the Stage Door agency, she has done very nicely, thanks inevitably to the celebrity status of her famous husband, and her agency plays an important (some say too important) role on the Italian singing scene.
Luciano Pavarotti, too, is obviously not short of a bob. Estimates suggest he may be worth up to 8200 million, while his fee for a mega concert can be as high as $1 million per night.
In fairness, he is also a regular performers at charity "gigs" in Italy and elsewhere. By the way, if you're thinking of booking him, remember that he has no free dates between now and the next millennium.
Signora Pavarotti may this week be feeling humiliated, mortified and aggrieved, and all with good reason. This does not mean, however, that her husband's celebrated tenor voice has "gone off". Luciano "Superstar" Pavarotti is likely to be around for some time to come.