And all the soft voices pierced his ears, and yet no one could know that.
The ballet had been introduced into an opera, he could not have said into which one; he heard nothing, he saw nothing which took place upon the stage.
The triumphal fanfare of the madriléna roused him from his brooding.
How beautiful she was!
A cloud of black lace and satin floated about her. On her breast was a bunch of white roses, in her ears sparkled two great drops like frozen tears.
Felix saw nothing of the whole apparition but these great sparkling drops. He would have liked to scream out, "Hold her fast, she wears my honor in her ears!"
Poor Felix; he was delirious. The triumph which Juanita had experienced at the Orpheum was nothing to her present one at the opera house. A foreign prince, who chanced to be in the house, clapped his hands in approval; the X---- saw it in her box, and grew green with envy.
Then Juanita threw her last kiss and vanished. The opera proceeded. Felix sat in his place as if petrified.
At last, at the close of the act, he rose to go behind the scenes. That uneasy hum, which in the world follows a triumph or a fiasco, prevailed there. Juanita was nowhere to be seen. He knocked at her dressing-room door, her maid alone answered him. Juanita was gone, had just driven away. "His Highness Prince Arthur"--the girl was a born Viennese--"had arranged a supper in all haste in honor of the Senorita, and--she thought the Baron knew of it----"
Felix heard nothing more; in mad haste he rushed down the narrow stairs to the stage entrance, and out across the open square before the theatre. He saw a closed carriage turn a corner. Felix did not know whom the carriage contained--probably a perfect stranger--and still he rushed after it--rushed after it like an insane man for a long distance. The earth trembled beneath him; with a hoarse, breathless gasp, he sank to the ground.