"The power and the glory--the
power and the glory," and knew that involuntarily I was reaching out for
the old staff on which I had leaned so many times before.

The scene was on--the laughing cynicism of the _Baroness_--the chatter of
the players--then, at last, _George_ and _Cora_ were alone!

My terror had slipped from me like a garment, I was in the play once
more; save for just one awful moment! _George_ had torn the veil from my
disfigured face, and, casting in my teeth the accusation: "You are mad!"
had left me there alone, standing, stunned by the word! That was the
moment of actual dethronement of reason, and, as I slowly, stupidly
turned my eyes, I saw Mr. Daly's white face thrust forward eagerly. His
gray eyes wide and glowing, his thin hand tightly grasping the lapel of
his coat, his whole being expressing the very anguish of anxiety!

One moment I felt I was lost! I had been dragged out of the play at the
crucial moment! I clasped my hands across my eyes: "The kingdom and the
power!" I groaned--I faced the other way! The low, eerie music caught my
attention and awakened my imagination, in another second I was as mad as
a March hare. The first time the low, gibbering laugh swelled into the
wild, long-sustained shrieking _ha! ha!_ a voice said, low and clear:
"Oh, dear God!"

Yet I who had heard the genuine laugh at the mad-house knew this to be
but a poor, tame, soulless thing, compared to that Hecate-like
distillation--the very essence of madness, that ran through that real
gibber of laughter.

Yet it was enough. At the end there came to me one of those moments God
grants now and then as a reward for long thirst, way-weariness, and
heart-sickness patiently borne! One of those foolishly divine moments you
stand with the gods and, like them, are young and fair and powerful! Your
very nerves thrill harmonious, like harp-strings attune--your blood
courses like quicksilver for swiftness, like wine for warmth, and on that
fair peak of Triumph, where one tarries but by moments, there is no
knowledge of sin or suffering, of death or hate; there is only sunshine,
the sunshine of success! love for all those creatures who turn smiling
faces on you, who hold their hands to you with joyous cries!

There is no question of deserts, of qualifications! No analysis, no
criticism then--they follow later! That is just a moment of delicious
madness; and to distinguish it from other frenzies it is called--a
Dramatic Triump