In his mind’s eye he saw again the glory that once was Egypt. Picturing himself as the heroine, Aida, he loved the prince of all Egypt’s warriors, and at the same time shuddered for her people.
As Radames, he heard the shouts of his people when he returned as a triumphant victor.
As Amneris, the Egyptian princess in the stately boat of those ancient days beneath a golden moon, he glided down the blue Nile. And all the time, as the matchless beauty of the scenes and the exquisite melody of the music filled him with raptures that could not be described, he was saying to himself:
“Oh, for one golden moment to stand before that assembled throng—all the rich, the learned of the great of this city—and to feel the glory of the past about me! To know love and adventure, the daring of a Captain of the Guard, the tender sentiments of an Aida, and to express it all in song! To do all this and to feel that every heart in that throng beats in rapture or in sorrow, as my own! What glory! What matchless joy!”
And yet, even as these last thoughts passed into eternity, the young head with its crown of gold fell forward. There was a moment of relaxation expressing pain and all but hopeless despair. Then, like a mouse creeping out from the dark, he slipped from his place to glide stealthily along among the shadows and at last disappear into that place of darkness that is a great auditorium at night.
Having felt his way across a tier of boxes, he vaulted lightly over a low rail. Passing through a narrow corridor, he touched a door and pushed it noiselessly open. He was met by a thin film of light.
“Too much,” he murmured. “I shall be seen.”
Backing away, he retraced his steps.
Having moved a long way to the right, he tried still another door.
“Ah, it is better,” he breathed.