m the
conductor's stand--but not from the House. Kaya, you hurt me, child;
you hurt me sorely if you refuse!"

He stood before her with his arms folded. "My heart is set on your
success," he said, "and if--"

Kaya, looking up suddenly, saw that there were tears in his eyes.
"Master," she cried. And then her will broke suddenly like iron in a
furnace, red-hot under the stroke of the hammer. "You are sure?" she
cried, "From the House no one would know me? You are sure?"

"I am sure."

She hesitated, looking away from him.

"No one?" she repeated, "not even--"

Then she raised her eyes and came closer to the Kapellmeister, looking
up in his face. "He loves me," she stammered, "And I--I love him! But
the curse is between us--if he should find me again--! Ah, it is
myself I am afraid of--myself!" Her breath came in sobs and her face
quivered.

The Kapellmeister lifted the cloak from the floor and put it around her
shoulders. There was a strange light in his eyes. He gazed at her for
a moment; then he caught her by the hand and drew her toward the door.

"Come!" he said, "Trust me, Kaya. I understand--at last I understand.
Come!"

She yielded without a word.

They were both trembling.

CHAPTER XXIII

The second Act was over. The curtain had descended slowly, hiding the
singers; the lights had flashed up, revealing the House. It was
crowded from the pit to the gallery. The double row of loggias was
ablaze with colour; and from them came a light ripple of talk and of
laughter, broken loose as the curtain fell, a sound like the running of
water over smooth pebbles.

The Schultz was ill. So it was advertized all over the foyer on huge
yellow placards; and a new Bruennhilde was to take her place. The name
was unknown; a young singer doubtless, brought forward under the stress
of the dilemma. The audience whispered together and the ripple grew
louder. In the next Act, the final scene, she would appear. The
moments were passing.

Suddenly the door at the back of one of the loggias opened, and an
usher ran hurriedly in. He gave a hasty glance over the occupants, and
then bent and whispered to a gentleman in the rear.

"Monsieur Velasco?"

The gentleman nodded.

"Sir--the Kapellmeister has been seized with a sudden attack of
giddiness and is unable to continue with the performance. He begs
earnestly that you will conduct the last Act in his place."

"I--?" said Velasco.

"There i