The yearly recital of Josef's pupils is an event to which Paris looks
forward with interest, for the great teacher makes of it always an
artistic triumph. That year there was more than usual excitement over
the event, because of the first appearance in public of Mademoiselle
Dulany, whose voice had been enthusiastically written of by every critic
whom Josef had permitted to hear her sing. Two of the greatest singers
of the world, old pupils of Josef, had been bidden to sing with her.
Campanali and Rigard, whose sonorous bass tones have thrilled two
continents, came gladly at the bidding of their old master, to whom they
owed so much. The opera was "Faust." The house was packed from pit to
dome, with seats in the aisles, and many great people.
The Countess, trembling with excitement, had with her in her box her old
friends the Townes, from London, for the event. In the next box the Duc
d'Aumale and a party of club men were making bets about the success of
the evening. In the next sat Francis Ravenel, with his mother and Anne
Lennox. He was more excited than he had believed it possible for him to
be over anything in life. The lights, the chatter of the gay throng, the
moving of the people in their visiting from place to place, the tuning
of the instruments, jarred upon his nerves frightfully and heightened
the tension at which he was. Outwardly, however, he appeared as unmoved
as if sitting alone at the club. His mother and Anne were recognizing
many acquaintances in the audience, and there was a constant procession
of men coming to the box to pay their respects. With every one the topic
was La Dulany. "Would she have stage fright?" Josef said not. "Will she
be as beautiful as rumor has said?" "It is a great undertaking for an
absolutely unknown débutante to sing with Campanali, who will, nay,
must, naturally take all the honors."
Meanwhile, Katrine, in her little white room at the Countess de
Nemours', 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!