From the time the curtain was drawn up until the opera ended, Leone was in a trance. Quite suddenly she had entered this new and beautiful world of music and art—a world so bright and dazzling that it bewildered her.
Lord Chandos watched her with keen delight—her lustrous eyes, the intense face, the parted lips.
The opera was one of the most beautiful—"Norma"—and the part of Norma was taken by the greatest prima donna of her time. Leone's eyes filled with tears as those passionate reproaches were sung; she knew nothing of the language, but the music was full of eloquence for her. She turned suddenly to her husband; her whole soul seemed awake and thrilling with dramatic instinct.
"Lance," she said in a low voice, "I could do that; I do not mean that I could sing so well, but I could feel the jealousy she feels. I could utter those reproaches. Something seems to have awoke in my soul that never lived before; it is all new to me, yet I understand it all; my heart is on fire as I listen."
"And you have enjoyed it?" he said, when the curtain fell on the last grand scene.
She answered him with a low sigh of perfect content.
So it was that to her her wedding-day became the most marked day of her life, for on it she awoke to the knowledge of the world of art and music.
There was nothing for it but to remain at the hotel.
Lord Chandos merely laughed at the notion of his parents holding out against him. He was wonderfully sanguine.
"We shall hear the carriage stop some fine morning," he said, "and they will be here to seek a reconciliation."