MY DEAR MOTHER-IN-LAW,--Don't send any more letters to the Barlows'. We
thought that it was better not to stay with them (pleasant as it was) any
longer. There was such a commotion in that quiet house, such ringing of
bells and running about. The servants were worn out attending to me and my
visitors.
I don't know where to begin to tell you about this wonderful escapade of
ours. I call it my "bravura act." It is too exciting! I copy a letter just
received from Strakosch, in answer to a letter of mine, to show you what
the process of "working up" is. He writes: "You wonder at your big
audiences. The reason is very simple. In the first place, people know that
you are thought to be the best amateur singer in Paris--'La Diva du
Monde'--besides being a favorite in Parisian society, and that you have
not only a beautiful voice, but also that you have beautiful toilettes.
This is a great _attraction_. In the second place, I allow (_as a great
privilege_) the tickets to be subscribed for; the remaining ones are
bought at auction. You see, in this way the bids go _'way up_.... I am
glad I secured Sarasate to supplement," etc.
We have taken a suite of rooms in the Clarendon Hotel, so as to be near
the opera-house, where I go to practise with the orchestra. You cannot
imagine how intense the whole thing is.
To feel that I can hold a great audience, like the one that greeted me the
first night, in my hand, and to know that I can make them laugh or cry
whenever I please--to see the mass of upturned faces--is an inspiring
sensation. The applause bewildered me at first, and I was fearfully
excited; but one gets used to all things in the end. My songs, "Bel
raggio" (Rossini), "Voi che sapete" (Mozart), and "La Valse de Pardon de
Ploërmel" (Meyerbeer), were all encored and re-encored.
I said to Strakosch, "I can't go on forever, tripping on and off the stage
like that!" He answered, laconically, "Well, you see people have paid
much for their tickets, and they want their money's worth."