The great theater was pervaded by optimism, which flowed from the fountain-head of its owner. And this optimism percolated through certain sections of society in New York, as had been the case in London before Sennier's Paradis Terrestre was given for the first time.
Report of the opera was very good. And with each passing day it became better.
Charmian remembered what had happened in London, and thought exultantly, "Success is in the air."
It certainly seemed to be so. Rumor was busy and spoke kind things. Charmian noticed that the manner of many people toward her and Claude was becoming increasingly cordial. The pressmen whom she met gave her unmistakable indications that they expected great things of her husband. Two of them, musical critics both, came to dine with her and Claude one night at the St. Regis, and talked music for hours. One of them had lived in Paris, and was steeped in modernity. He was evidently much interested in Claude's personality, and after dinner, when they had all returned from the restaurant to the Heaths' sitting-room, he said to Charmian:
"Your husband is the most interesting English personality I have met. He is the only Englishman who has ever given to me the feeling of strangeness, of the beyond."
He glanced around with his large Southern eyes and saw that there was a piano in the room.
"Would he play to us, do you think?" he said, rather tentatively. "I am not asking as a pressman but as a keen musician."
"Claude!" Charmian said. "Mr. Van Brinen asks if you will play us a little bit of the opera."
Claude got up.
"Why not?" he said.