“But see!” He touched one button, then another, and, behold, the statue stood before them a thing of exquisite beauty!
“You see?” he smiled. “Now there are shadows, perfect shadows, just enough, and just enough light.
“Life is like that. There must be shadows. Without shadows we could not be conscious of light. But when the lights are too bright, the shadows too deep, then all is wrong.
“Your bright lights of life at the Opera House, the sable coats, the silks and jewels, they are a form of life. But there the lights are too strong. They blind the eyes, hide the true beauty that may be beneath it all.
“But out there on that vacant lot, in the cold and dark—you have not forgotten?”
“I shall never forget.” Jeanne’s voice was low.
“There the shadows were too deep. It was like this.” He touched still another button. The beauty of the statue was once more lost, this time in a maze of shadows too deep and strong.
“You see.” His voice was gentle.
“I see.”
“But here are more guests arriving. You may not be aware of it, but this is to be an afternoon of opera, not of art.”