XXI
THE NIGHT OF KATRINE'S DEBUT
The yearly recital of Josef's pupils is an event to which Paris looksforward with interest, for the great teacher makes of it always anartistic triumph. That year there was more than usual excitement overthe event, because of the first appearance in public of MademoiselleDulany, whose voice had been enthusiastically written of by every criticwhom Josef had permitted to hear her sing. Two of the greatest singersof the world, old pupils of Josef, had been bidden to sing with her.Campanali and Rigard, whose sonorous bass tones have thrilled twocontinents, came gladly at the bidding of their old master, to whom theyowed so much. The opera was "Faust." The house was packed from pit todome, with seats in the aisles, and many great people.
The Countess, trembling with excitement, had with her in her box her oldfriends the Townes, from London, for the event. In the next box the Ducd'Aumale and a party of club men were making bets about the success ofthe evening. In the next sat Francis Ravenel, with his mother and AnneLennox. He was more excited than he had believed it possible for him tobe over anything in life. The lights, the chatter of the gay throng, themoving of the people in their visiting from place to place, the tuningof the instruments, jarred upon his nerves frightfully and heightenedthe tension at which he was. Outwardly, however, he appeared as unmovedas if sitting alone at the club. His mother and Anne were recognizingmany acquaintances in the audience, and there was a constant processionof men coming to the box to pay their respects. With every one the topicwas La Dulany. "Would she have stage fright?" Josef said not. "Will shebe as beautiful as rumor has said?" "It is a great undertaking for anabsolutely unknown debutante to sing with Campanali, who will, nay,must, naturally take all the honors."
Meanwhile, Katrine, in her little white room at the Countess deNemours', had just written:
DEAR UNKNOWN,--I have shut every one out of my room and shall see them no more until afterward. Can I do it? I have prayed God, who knows how I have suffered and worked and despaired and desired, to help me now. I have asked Him to remember what I have tried to do, to remember my self-denials, my surrender, my lonesome life, my broken heart, and give it me to do this one thing well.
They will all be there, all those people who have heard of me, and Josef. Ah, for his sake, too, I have prayed to do greatly, inspiredly, the thing he would have me do! And _he_ will be there, too, I am told. He has crossed the ocean to hear me sing. Oh, dear God, just once, if never again, let him know me through my voice, know that I forgive and forget and understand!
The carriage is ready. Good-bye, dear, dear room, dear old books, dear old scores! Good-bye, Dear Unknown!
It is the last time I can write you of my hopes to be great. To-morrow you will know what I have done. But whether I go to success or failure, I kiss you with my heart full of love and gratitude, and so-good-bye!
KATRINE.
* * * * *
"There is Josef now; look, Mrs. Ravenel!" Mrs. Lennox cried, pointing toa man who had just entered the stage box. "The man with the iron-grayhair. And the eyes! Did you ever see such eyes? And who is that withhim? Great Heavens," she exclaimed, "it is that pervasive Irishman whowas down in North Carolina, Dermott McDermott!"
Josef, pale as a statue, had taken a place in the shadow of the box,back from the reach of opera-glasses. His hands trembled, and at timeshis lips twitched backward, as one who has lost control through too longa strain.
"Do look out for him," Katrine had said to Dermott, the night before,between tears and a smile. "I can get through it all right, but I amfearful it may kill Josef. He takes me very seriously, you know."
A heavy knocking came. The leader took his place. The overture began,and when the curtain rose Campanali received the genuine ovation whichwas his due. At the conclusion of that great duet, "Be Mine theDelight," there was the vision of Marguerite at the spinning-wheel, and,after three years, Francis Ravenel saw Katrine, but in a blurred visionwith fold upon fold of gauze between them. Finally the soldiers andmaidens disappeared, and there came an expectant hush. One heard _now_!The pause was marked, intentional, before there came toward thefootlights, in their most relentless glare, a girl with gladness and joyin her very walk. Neither a heavy German peasant girl nor a Frenchsoubrette. No dreary, timid, _maedchen_, but a glad young soul consciousof nothing save joy, with the beauty in her face of youth and power asshe looked at the gay throng of the fair. Then, with the gaze of theentire house upon her, her eyes encountered those of Faust. There was nostart of surprise, but, as though drawn to him by a law beyond control,her eyes rested in his, and with no gesture, without a note sung, withnothing but a change in expression, one understood great love had cometo her, the first love of a woman, which is never lived over norforgotten.
And Francis Ravenel, sitting back of the others in the box, recalledthat look and drew behind the curtains. In memory, soft arms were roundhis throat as a voice, the same, yet not the same, sang:
"No signor, not a lady am I, Nor yet a beauty, And do not need an arm To guide me on my way."
A golden voice, with tones so breathed they had the liquidness of thebluebird's call, as Paris held its breath before the beauty and wonderof it; a voice which Frank remembered amid the pine and honeysuckleunderneath the night blue of the Carolinas, saying:
"God keep you always just as you are, beloved."
* * * * *
From the first scene to the clear end, when, in the divine trio,Campanali, Rigard, and Katrine caught fire from each other and went madtogether, in that great, strong music where right triumphs, as the songclimbs higher and higher in its great insistence, it was such triumph asno first performance had been in the memory of our generation, a successthat admitted no cavilling or question, a success indisputable andunparalleled, and before the performance was ended the papers werechronicling, for the ends of the earth, that a world star had arisen inthe firmament of song.
McDermott's face was an open book for all who cared to read. The onewoman on earth for him was triumphing, and his thoughts were all forher, and Master Josef saw and noted even in his excitement andtrembling.
Frank, too, gloried in Katrine's success, but underneath the pleasurethere was a senseless jealousy, a resentment of the position in which itplaced her to him. And the conduct of Dermott McDermott during theevening was another bitter morsel for his palate; for the Irishmancarried an air of ownership of everything, even of Josef; gave anappraising and managerial attention to the audience; and bowed toKatrine, when she smiled at him over a huge bunch of green orchids withan Irish flag in the ribbons, with such an air of proprietorship that itmade the time scarcely endurable to Frank. But he played the game by amasterly method, and drew nearer to Anne, looking into her eyes with thedevotion which he knew so well how to assume, despising himself as hedid so. But after the last _brava_ had been given and he had put hismother into the brougham, saying, abruptly, that he preferred to walk,his heart and head came to an unexpected encounter. He stood alone,unnoting the passers-by, oblivious of the superfluous praise ofKatrine's voice which he heard in the broken talk, looking into thedistant sky at the two great towers of Notre Dame.
It was not far to the De Nemours' house. Although very late, it woulddoubtless be filled with friends congratulating Katrine, and under thecircumstances, he reasoned, there could seem no precipitancy in callingimmediately to offer congratulations.
He found the house a blaze of light, with servants going back and forthwith arms full of flowers. In front there were many carriages andfiacres. By the entrance arch were several newspaper men, one of whomspoke Frank's name as he passed. Everywhere there was an air of bustleand disorder. On the second floor he saw lights being carried from oneroom to another, as though hurried preparations were being made.
Giving his card to the French servant, who had ushered him with animportant and excited manner in
to a small reception-room, he waited. Hisheart throbbed like a school-boy's with his first love. In a minute hewould see her, would hold her hand. In his pocket he carried a letter,one of Katrine's many letters, to "The Dear Unknown."
"I have not forgotten this old love," she had written, "I shall neverforget. I never close my eyes without thinking of him nor without aprayer for him upon my lips."
Suddenly there came a laugh, a jolly, musical sound of real mirth, andhe heard Dermott's voice dominating and directing on the upper floor.Immediately after there came a silence, and then, from the turn in thestairs, he heard the same voice, with a touch of insolence, speaking tothe servant to whom he had given the card:
"Say to Mr. Ravenel that Mademoiselle Dulany regrets that it isimpossible for her to see him." And then, with a dramatic note, "Tellhim," the Irishman added, "she leaves within an hour to sing before theQueen."