Next morning, Lavirotte was stirring betimes. He followed the same
plan as on the Thursday, getting quietly to the Park and there
lounging about for a while, until it was time to call at the doctor's.
Then, with a slow step and imperturbed face, he strode along, got to
the house of the great man at the precise time agreed, and was
instantly admitted to the study, where the doctor sat.
"Ah!" said the physician, rising. "My letter was effective. That is a
good omen, let us hope."
To-day there was no need for explanation. Nor did it seem the great
man had need to make so extended an examination. In a very short time
he put down the stethoscope, rubbed his hands encouragingly, and said:
"You told me the other day, when you were here, you would not lose any
money by not singing to-night, and that you would, under your
agreement, be entitled to draw your salary as though you had sung.
Now, you see, you are a young man, and I am an old one, and if I were
in your shoes, instead of exciting myself at a stuffy theatre, I'd go
to some nice quiet place, say some seaside place, and spend a while
there."
"I know," said Lavirotte, rising quietly. "I understand what you
mean."
The doctor rose also, and putting his hand on the young man's
shoulder, said: "Now, you mustn't be too hasty. I am accustomed to say
what I want to say."
"And you do not find yourself in a position to give me the certificate
I require."
"I would most certainly recommend you not to put any undue strain upon
yourself just now. Come to me in a fortnight, suppose. We will then
see what the rest has done you."
"Thank you," said Lavirotte. "I am a ruined man."
"Nonsense!" said the doctor. "Talk of being a ruined man, when you can
say you will lose nothing!"
"But you think there is something very bad the matter with me?"
"I think any unusual excitement would be exceedingly injurious to you,
and perhaps dangerous."
Lavirotte bowed and withdrew. He drove to the Oberon, and went
directly to Fraser.
"It is as I feared," he said calmly, deliberately, coldly. "He will
not allow me to sing. I am very sorry for my own sake. From what he
told me, I do not think I have long to live. Fraser, you have done
your best to be a good friend to me. It would be folly that a man in
my condition should go on, when you have a better man in splendid
health as a substitute. I won't come near the theatre to-night, but
I'll look you up to-morrow. O'Donnell will sing the part better than I
could. I suppose, Fraser, you don't mind keeping the thing open for me
for a fortnight?"
Fraser was moved. At the first moment he was rejoiced to find that
O'Donnell was to sing the part. Then he suddenly reflected that this
must be a terrible blow to Lavirotte, and that, moreover, these
faintings must indicate something very serious. It was indeed hard
that a young man, in the flower of his youth, should be stopped at the
very threshold of his career by an affection which might incapacitate
him from ever following that career.
He assured Lavirotte in the most cordial and emphatic manner that he
was sincerely sorry; and upon hearing what the doctor had recommended
with regard to the seaside, he insisted upon Lavirotte taking a cheque
for two weeks' salary, and then bade him begone, without a moment's
notice, to some place calculated to improve his health.
"Is O'Donnell here?" asked Lavirotte. "I'd like to see him before I
go." Fraser sent for Eugene. "You are to sing my part, old fellow,"
said Lavirotte, when the other entered. "The doctor says I must not. I
know you will do it better than I. I will not come near the theatre
to-night. This is the important news I thought I should have to tell
you. I must now say good-bye. You are all too busy for me to stop."
O'Donnell was quite overwhelmed. He took Lavirotte's right hand in
his, put his left on the shoulder of the other, and looked at him
fixedly. "You're not ill; you're not really ill, my dear Dominique! I
can't believe it, and you will sing the part."
Lavirotte shook his head quietly. "Ask Fraser. He will tell you. He
has suspected all along I might not be able for the part."
"But you are able for it, better able for it than I am," said Eugene,
generously.
"No, Eugene," said Lavirotte quietly. "My health, it appears, is not
equal to the excitement, and your voice is more suited to the music.
I am going away to the seaside, somewhere. I don't know or care
where--to Glengowra perhaps. I'm sorry I ever left Glengowra. If I go
there I shall call upon your father and mother, and tell them of the
success you are sure to make to-night. Give my love to your wife,
Eugene, and kiss your boy for me."
"Will you not come and see Nellie?" said Eugene, the tears standing in
his eyes. "She is in town, and we can find her in a few minutes."
"No, no, Eugene. I cannot. I had better go away straight to my eyrie.
Good-bye, Eugene. Kiss the boy for me when you go home. You told me
you would not bring him in to-day. The only thing I would like to see
before setting out is your wife's face when you have sung in the trio
and the solo, at the end of the second act. God bless you, my dear
boy. Thank you, a thousand times, Fraser," and he was gone.
The two men in the manager's room looked at one another strangely when
they were alone.
"Did you ever think," said Fraser, "that Lavirotte was a little mad?"
"He's sometimes queer," said Eugene, guardedly.
"Now, O'Donnell," said the other briskly, "you'll have to do the very
best you can in the part."
"I am sincerely sorry for the occasion of my taking it, but of course
I will do my best."
Lavirotte went straight to the bank on which the cheque was drawn, got
his money, and betook himself to his lonely chamber in the tower.
O'Donnell went straight to where he had left his wife, and told her
the turn which events had taken.
"What can be the matter with him?" asked Nellie, her first thought
being for the man whose health was threatened.
"I don't know. He did not say," answered Eugene, "and I did not care
to ask. It must be something serious. And now I must run away, Nellie,
and you may not hope to see me again until the evening. I shall be
very busy until then. Go and amuse yourself somewhere, darling. Come
about half-past six to the theatre, stage door. I must be off now."
Time sped so quickly at the theatre that day, that Eugene O'Donnell
could scarcely believe an hour had passed from the time he had seen
his wife, until it was time for him to begin to dress. He had told his
wife to come to him at half-past six. The curtain would not go up for
an hour-and-a-half after this.
At the time she arrived at the theatre he was engaged, and she had to
wait for him. The doors were already open. As soon as the lights were
turned up, she had been shown into a box, as everything was in
confusion behind. Here she sat, with the curtains drawn, expecting him
every moment.
Suddenly he burst into the box, in the costume of a Greek brigand.
Although she had seen him in the dress--he had put it on at home to
amuse her and their boy--she did not at first recognise him, and
started and rose in a fright. At last she cried out in a suppressed
voice: "Eugene, I did not know you. How splendid you look."
"How can I tell her?" he said.
"What!" she said. "What is the matter? Has anything happened to
Lavirotte?"
"No," he said, "but our house--Nellie, bear up--has met a misfortune."
"Be quick."
"And is in flames."
"Great God! And our boy, our child!"
"Is safe, no doubt."
"Who brought the news?"
"Lavirotte; come, we must go at once."
"You are not certain about our boy? Oh, Eugene, you are not sure of
the worst?"
"No; I pledge you my word, I am not."
"And when we find him safe with the nurse, who would die for him, will
you be able to get back here in time?"
"No; even if I could, I durst not try to sing to-night, after this."
"And who is to sing the part?"
"Dominique."
"Dominique!"
"Dominique Lavirotte."