By her divine charm, all smiles on me, all enchants,
And, to accompany the flight of my song,
The concert of the birds snaps in the green bush.
Gracious mistress and sister I have chosen.
Must I now lose you, oh, my royal treasure? Oh, Liberty, my beloved,
Careless fay of the golden smile!”
“Liberty ... careless fay of the golden smile.” Jeanne repeated these words three times. Then with dreamy eyes that spanned a nation and an ocean, she saw again the lanes, the hedges, the happy villages of France.
“Who better than I can feel as that poor juggler felt as he gave all this up for the monastery’s narrow walls?” she asked. No answer came back. She knew the answer well enough for all that. And this knowledge gave her courage for the hours that were to come.
She met Marjory Dean by one of the massive pillars that adorn the great Opera House.
“To think,” she whispered, “that all this great building should be erected that thousands might hear you sing!”