Painted Veils

onal impressions were intrinsically of more importance to her than the music or the singing. Ulick had left her, promising himself to see her at dinner that evening; he didn'

lly amiable. Was it because Paul Godard was in her dressing-room? Ulick detested Paul, though calmly. That young millionaire sprig, who dabbled in music as he did in stocks and society, went everywhere. At Baireuth Ulick had dodged his company. Paul was so complacently conscious of himse

like that. Lehmann, hearing the name of Frida Ash, approved, adding, "But my dear young lady, you musn't stay in New York too long. Your formative years should be spent in Europe, in Paris, in Berlin, in Milan. Some day you should try to sing at Baireuth if only the humblest r?les. You know that I was one of the Rhine-Daughters there at the first performance of the Ring in 1876. But if you go to Germany next Summer come to see me. Perhaps-if your voice-you have an excellent stage presence-who knows?" Paul Godard became ecstatic. "Ah, who knows?" he echoed like a parrot-so Ulick called him; "lucky Miss Brandès-Oh, I wonder if you are any relative of the divine Marthe-" "There he goes again with that damfool question," said Ul

singers as Melba and Eames. That sort of singing didn't interest her. Flute-playing-nothing stirring or dramatic. She meant to be a Wagner singer, an extraordinary Isolde and Brunnhilde. Keep your Marguerites, your Gildas, Juliettes, yes, even your Carmens. I must conquer Wagner, she triumphantly asserted. Ulick exploded. Possibly the allusions to Godard got on his nerves, anyhow, it was the proper time to put this braggart in her place. "You and your Wagner," he testily exclaimed. "Are you so silly and ignorant as to fancy that you c

ent immorality. She began thinking of Allie Wentworth and her set. Allie was an Ash pupil and Easter played her accompaniments. An intimacy ensued. Allie was an heiress. Old Wentworth was the Olive-Oil King, or some such idiotic title, and he had money to burn, Easter reflected. There might be something in that direction. Paul was nice, his eyes had measured every inch of her, and those eyes had eloquently related their admiration. What if she played for a bigger stake? this notion she also reflected as improbable of execution; besides, she would' never marry. Marriage. Stupid slavery for an ambitious woman.... Her thought poised lightly on Ulick and despite herself she coloured ... he is a charming boy, but so self-opinionated. She was late and had to mollify Madame Frida. Luckily the pupil she had kept waiting

pig in a poke. Again, consternation on the part of Ash. Well, if you sing for Lilli suppose we get to work on some Bach. Easter loathed Bach, although she knew that his music was necessary to the formation of a sound vocal style. So she didn't demur, and presently she was delivering an old chorale, accompanying herself, and singing with such tonal richness and exaltation of feeling that the tears came unbidden to the eyes of the veteran teacher. Afterwards she told Stone that the girl