Francesco Cilea is best known for his opera “Adriana Lecouvreur,” composed in 1902. That opera, in turn, is best known for one soprano aria: “Io son l’umile ancella.” Divas in recital have long favored it as an encore. But another Cilea opera, “L’Arlesiana” (1897), is not to be overlooked. And Eve Queler and her Opera Orchestra of New York did not overlook it — they provided a splendid performance at Carnegie Hall on Wednesday night.

“L’Arlesiana,” or “The Girl from Arles,” is based on a short story by Alphonse Daudet. That story later became a play, and you may know the music that Bizet wrote for it. In Daudet’s tale, the protagonist — Federico, he is called in the opera — falls in love with a dangerous woman: the Girl from Arles. Several people try to rescue him from this obsession. These include his mother, Rosa, and a girl who sincerely loves him, Vivetta. But Federico is ensnared. And the story ends very badly.

Cilea wrote a wonderful score, expressing all the emotions and realities of the story. There is one bit that has always had a life of its own: “Federico’s Lament.” It was a Caruso vehicle, and has been a vehicle for other tenors. But, believe me, this is far from the best thing in the opera. Cilea’s score will affect any heart not made of stone.

Ms. Queler assembled a cast of able, gutsy, and unconventional singers. Leading them was the Italian tenor Giuseppe Filianoti, who, of course, sang Federico. Mr. Filianoti is a big deal in Europe, and he should become a big deal here. Last season, he made his Metropolitan Opera debut as Edgardo in Donizetti’s “Lucia di Lammermoor.” He was admirable then, but he was positively smashing on Wednesday night.

He has a lyric but strong voice, and that voice is radiantly beautiful. It simply shines as it travels through the air. And Mr. Filianoti is not afraid of the Italian style, traditionally understood; indeed, he embraces it eagerly. He sang the “Lament” with veristic magnificence (although he was slightly effortful on soft, sustained notes). When he was through, the place went nuts. The crowd would not stop cheering and stamping.

Pretty soon, Ms. Queler was turning back the pages of her score, and we had an encore: a true encore. (The word, as you know, means “again.”) Mr. Filianoti sang the “Lament” even better the second time — more sensitively, and with greater technical control. But I’m not sure it was truly wise to repeat. The momentum of the opera was slowed, just a little.

Still, no one can complain when treated to such good, honest singing.

Another good, honest singer was the mezzo in the role of Rosa. She was Marianne Cornetti, an American. Ms. Cornetti is a classic Verdi mezzo, and she takes Azucena, Amneris, and Eboli all over the world. She has a big, throbbing, thrilling voice, with a huge, huge top: Think Dolora Zajick. For that matter, think Marianne Cornetti! She made a riveting and completely sympathetic Rosa, giving her all. The aria “Esser madre è un inferno” — “Being a mother is hellish” (!) — was a tour de force.

The soprano in this show, singing Vivetta, was another American, Latonia Moore. She drew attention last fall when she portrayed Micaëla in a City Opera “Carmen.” She was even more impressive at Carnegie Hall, rolling out her sizable, creamy, luscious voice. That voice has some dusk in it, and it is fully alive. And Ms. Moore showed real vocal savvy: For instance, she started a high A a bit low, and you might have expected it to stay there; but Ms. Moore adjusted it up into the middle — sweet relief!

The role of the shepherd Baldassare was taken by a baritone from Texas, Weston Hurt. He sang freshly and solidly, although he fought the occasional intonation problem. Moreover, his Italian was correct — as was that of pretty much every non-Italian in the cast. (Mr. Filianoti’s wasn’t so bad, either.) Singers in the lesser roles were not as successful as the top dogs — but there was not a loser in the bunch. Everyone on the stage sang with passion, commitment, and sense.

I have not mentioned who sang the title role, that Girl from Arles. That’s because she never appears. In fact, she is never named — but seems to control events through some vicious voodoo.

As for the conductor, Ms. Queler, she seemed slightly surprised, and delighted, by the thunderous applause — even whoops — she received. She deserved them. The orchestra, though imperfect, was involving, and the New York City Choral Society was excellent: They were best in their unaccompanied singing.

So, this company did its job. That is to say, it presented an unusual and worthy opera, with unusual and worthy singers. This was only a concert performance, but it was still a hot, gratifying night at the opera. I was nearly shocked by the power of this opera, “L’Arlesiana,” to move. And if we should ever lose Ms. Queler’s organization, we would lose a lot.