“Ah,” said Sardoni, with a smile, “he is such a tremendous fellow for home, he never comes a moment too soon, and at the theater often runs it even closer than this. He is the quickest dresser I ever knew, though, and is never behind time.”
Frithiof made his way to the cloak room, and, as he walked through the narrow room leading to it, he could distinctly hear the words of some one within. The voice seemed familiar to him.
“Badly received? Well, you only failed because of nervousness. In your second song you will be more used to things, and you will see, it will go much better.”
“But you surely can never have had the same difficulty to struggle with?” said the young tenor, who, with a very downcast face, stood talking to the newly arrived baritone.
“Never!” exclaimed the other, with a laugh which rang through the room, “Ask Sardoni! He’ll tell you of my first appearance.”
Then, as Frithiof gave his message, the speaker turned round and revealed to the Norwegian that face which had fascinated him so strangely just before his illness—a face not only beautiful in outline and coloring, but full of an undefined charm, which made all theories as to the conceit and objectionableness of successful men fall to the ground.
“Thank you,” he said, bowing in reply; “I will come down at once.” Then, turning again to the débutant with a smile, “You see, through failing to get that encore that you ought to have deserved, you have nearly made me behind time. Never mind, you will get a very hearty one in the second part to make up. Come down with me, wont you. It is far better fun in that family pew below than up here. Clinton Cleve is here, isn’t he? Have you been introduced to him?”
The young man replied in the negative; Frithiof perceived that the idea had cheered him up wonderfully, and knew that a word from the veteran tenor might be of great use to a beginner.
“I’ll introduce you,” said Donati as they went down the stairs. Frithiof held open the swing-doors for them and watched with no small curiosity the greeting between Donati and the other artistes. His manner was so very simple that it was hard to realize that he was indeed the man about whom all Europe was raving; but nevertheless he had somehow brought a sort of new atmosphere into the place, and even Mr. Horner seemed conscious of this, for he was less fidgety and fussy than usual, and even seemed willing to keep in the background. There was a hearty greeting to Madame Sardoni as she came down the steps and a brisk little conversation in the interval; then, having wrapped her shawl about her again, talking brightly all the while, Donati picked up his music and stepped on to the platform. It was only then that Frithiof realized how great was his popularity, for he was greeted rapturously, and certainly he well merited the thunder of applause which broke forth again at the close of a song which had been given with unrivaled delicacy of expression and with all the charm of his wonderful voice. For the time Frithiof forgot everything; he was carried far away from all consciousness of disgrace and wretchedness, far away from all recollection of Mr. Horner’s presence; he could only look in astonishment and admiration at the singer, who stood laughing and talking with Sardoni, periodically mounting the platform to bow his acknowledgments to the audience, who still kept up their storm of applause. When at length he had convinced them that he did not intend to sing again, he began to talk to Clinton Cleve, and soon had won for the young débutant a few minutes’ kindly talk with the good-natured old singer who, though he had been the idol of the British public for many years, had not forgotten the severe ordeal of a first appearance. The young tenor brightened visibly, and when he sang again acquitted himself so well that he won the encore which Donati had prophesied.
All went smoothly until, early in the second part, the Italian baritone was to sing a song with violin obligato. By some unlucky accident Frithiof forgot to place the music-stand for the violinist; and perceiving this as soon as they were on the platform, Donati himself brought it forward and put it in position. It was but a trifling occurrence, but quite sufficient to rouse Mr. Horner. When the singer returned he apologized to him profusely, and turned upon Frithiof with a rebuke, the tone of which made Donati’s eyes flash.