In the opera there is seen a wayside shrine where the Princess Elizabeth appears each day to pray for the soul of her lover, the knight Tannhäuser, who has gone on a pilgrimage to Rome to ask that his sins may be forgiven him. On this last day the pilgrims have passed on their journey homeward and among them Elizabeth sees no sign of her lost lover, so that she knows he must be unforgiven. She then sings this final song, asking that peace may come to her at last.
Esther wore a long white gown of crêpe de chine made in simple classic lines, with the draped tunic which is a modern fashion copied after a far older model. Ordinarily she was too tall and angular in every-day clothes, but this toilette seemed to give her just the grace and dignity her figure and character needed. Her red hair, which had grown a little darker as she grew older, was tonight a crown of glory, so that the pallor of her long grave face did not matter, for her always beautiful mouth had a look both of power and of wistfulness that surprised the strangers in the audience.
"The girl is far too young for the song her teacher has chosen for her," the critics whispered among themselves. It is not fair to make such an experiment, for this song of Elizabeth's is one of the favorites among the great prima donnas. What would this young girl do with it? Would she be too theatrical, too showy, or fail altogether?
While the orchestra played the opening chords Esther waited with her hands clasped lightly together in front of her, but not moving them with her old nervous gesture. Neither did she seem to be looking at anything or anybody. Not once did she even glance toward the box where her sister and friends were watching her, though in a kind of subconscious fashion she was aware of the white intensity in Betty's pretty face and the look of grave strength and helpfulness in Richard Ashton's.
Then Esther began to sing—and Betty, Dick, Polly, Mrs. Ashton and indeed all her friends, both new and old, had a sudden sensation of bitter disappointment. The tears came into Betty's eyes, rolling unheeded down her cheeks, though Polly slipped her hand back through the opening in her chair to press it sympathetically. However, Richard Ashton only set his lips, hardly breathing for the space of half a moment. Did he not recall a similar beginning on Esther's part some years before, when she had sung the Indian Love Song before a group of their Woodford acquaintances, which he had at first believed would end in a failure? Esther would not find this audience so ready to forgive or admire should she take too long a time before winning their attention.
"O blessed Virgin, hear my prayer!
Thou star of glory, look on me!"
These lines were whispered in so low a tone that they were almost inaudible except to the persons nearest the stage and Esther's voice trembled with nervousness. Was she frightened as she had expected to be? It was difficult to decide, because she stood so still.
"Here in the dust I bend before thee,
Now from this earth oh set me free!
Let me a maiden pure and white,
Enter into thy kingdom bright!"
Betty's tension relaxed. "Bravo," Miss Adams whispered under her breath. Richard Ashton felt a glow which was oddly commingled of pleasure, pride and sorrow. Yet one could not think, could not feel any other emotion now except wonder and delight as the beautiful voice in perfect sympathy with the music and its theme filled every shadowy space in the opera house with harmony.
Betty witnessed the expressions on several previously bored faces near them changing first to surprise, then interest and finally frank pleasure. Small wonder that the old German music master had allowed this young American girl to appear unheralded before them! She could only be twenty-one or twenty-two years old at the most. What a future lay before her!