“Well?”
The baron’s eyes were burning as he leaned forward toward her.
“Well—do you know what I propose? The most ironic coup in history! I propose to use for our king the millions heaped up for that king of copper by the very men who are now ruling in our stead. Superb, is it not?”
She was staring at him, striving to understand.
But before she could speak, the lights went out, there came a sharp rap from the conductor, and the orchestra began.
CHAPTER IV
ALLIANCE
THIS time it was the baron who attended and the countess who was distraught. The story he had told her had awakened memories and emotions deeper, more violent, than he suspected, and though she managed to keep her face serene, she was on fire within. Whereas the baron, assured that he was making progress, could abandon himself to a new sensation, the pleasure of hearing “E lucevan le stelle” incomparably sung by a voice as smooth, as soft, as iridescent as the satin in old Flemish paintings. For John McCormack was making his début as Mario that evening, and it was not until this moment that he found himself.
And the audience sat spellbound and listened.
There was no resisting the wild applause, which refused to be silenced. Perhaps the singer, after the shortcomings of the earlier acts, welcomed the opportunity to show what he could do. At any rate, he nodded to M. Lauweryns, who was waiting expectantly with raised baton.
“It is not possible for him to sing it again like that!” cried an excited woman’s voice; but he did, perhaps even a shade more perfectly.