"Upon my word, Miss Beaminster!"
"No, I've no patience with you. Go to your musical comedy if you like, but leave music like this for people who can appreciate it!"
Oh! she was superb! Entirely superb! She ought to be like this every day of her life! To think that he should have the chance of winning such a prize!
Nevertheless she would not speak to him again and they went back to the box. She would not speak to Lady Carloes nor to her uncle.
Then as the loveliest music in all opera flooded the building her anger began to melt.
He had looked so charmingly repentant and, after all, the Meistersinger was long for anyone who did not really care for music—and then they all did talk. It was only in the gallery that one found the proper reverence.
Her anger cooled and then descended upon her the quintet, and she was once again swept, in her cage, to the stars.
Now she and all live things seemed to be opening their hearts together to God—no shame now to speak of one's deepest and most sacred thoughts. No fear now of God nor the Archangels nor all the long spaces of Immortality. The cage had ascended to the highest of all the Heavens, and there, for a moment, one might stand, worshipping, with bowed head.
The quintet ceased and Rachel felt that she could never be angry with anyone again. She wished to tell him so.
At last, the revels were over, the "Prieslied" had won its praises, Sachs had been acclaimed by his world, and they were all in the lobby, waiting for carriages, talking, laughing, hurrying to the restaurants.