The Lure of the Mask
Out of the unromantic night, out of the somber blurring January fog, came a voice lifted in song, a soprano, rich, full and round, young, yet matured, sweet and mysterious as a night-bird's, haunting and elusive as the murmur of the sea in a shell: a lilt from La Fille de Madame Angot , a light opera long since forgotten in New York. Hillard, genuinely astonished, lowered his pipe and listened. To sit dreaming by an open window, even in this unlovely first month of the year, in that grim unhandsome city which boasts of its riches and still accepts with smug content its rows upon rows of ugly architecture, to sit dreaming, then, of red-tiled roofs, of cloud-caressed hills, of terraced vineyards, of cypresses in their dark aloofness, is not out of the natural order of things; but that into this idle and pleasant dream there should enter so divine a voice, living, feeling, pulsing, this was not ordinary at all.
And Hillard was glad that the room was in darkness. He rose eagerly and peered out. But he saw no one. Across the street the arc-lamp burned dimly, like an opal in the matrix, while of architectural outlines not one remained, the fog having kindly obliterated them.
The Voice rose and sank and soared again, drawing nearer and nearer. It was joyous and unrestrained, and there was youth in it, the touch of spring and the breath of flowers. The music was Lecocq's, that is to say, French; but the tongue was of a country which Hillard knew to be the garden of the world. Presently he observed a shadow emerge from the yellow mist, to come within the circle of light, which, faint as it was, limned in against the nothingness beyond the form of a woman. She walked directly under his window.
As the invisible comes suddenly out of the future to assume distinct proportions which either make or mar us, so did this unknown cantatrice come out of the fog that night and enter into Hillard's life, to readjust its ambitions, to divert its aimless course, to give impetus to it, and a directness which hitherto it had not known.
Harold MacGrath
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CONTENTS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE LURE OF THE MASK
THE VOICE IN THE FOG
OBJECT, MATRIMONY
MADAME ANGOT
BLINDFOLDED
O'Mally told inimitable stories
THE MASK
INTO THE FOG AGAIN
She deliberately drew a line across the centre of the table-cloth
THE TOSS OF A COIN
WHAT MERRIHEW FOUND
MRS. SANDFORD WINKS
CARABINIERI
THE CITY IN THE SEA
A BOX OF CIGARS
KITTY ASKS QUESTIONS
In the balcony La Signorina reposed in a steamer chair
GREY VEILS
MANY NAPOLEONS
O'MALLY SUGGESTS
GIOVANNI
THE ARIA FROM IL TROVATORE
TWO GENTLEMEN FROM VERONA
KITTY DROPS A BANDBOX
AN INVITATION TO A BALL
"Our little jig is up. Read these and see for yourself."
TANGLES
THE DÉNOUEMENT
MEASURE FOR MEASURE
Again and again the prince made desperate attempts to free himself
FREE
THE LETTER
BELLAGGIO
"Take me, and oh! be good and kind to me"