nly once, tried to "bluff," and how I nearly
got caught at it.

When the list of roles for Convent Garden was submitted to me in Berlin
I had actually sung on the stage all of them but one, _Brangaene_. I
always found this lady so weak, compared to _Isolde_, that she had never
interested me especially, and I had never studied her. I decided,
however, that having sung ninety-nine per cent. of the roles they wanted
I could risk the one per cent., _Brangaene_, hoping that Kirkby-Lunn
would not relinquish her. I learned the role, though, in record time
between concert dates, and trusted to "luck." The season was drawing to
a close, and all the operas had passed off well, when, just as we were
going to dinner one evening, I was called to the 'phone and told Madame
Kirkby-Lunn had been taken suddenly ill at the beginning of the first
act of "Tristan," would probably not be able to go on in the second, and
would I please come right down and make up.

In a nervous tremor, for _Brangaene_ is not easy without orchestra
rehearsal, and I was not quite sure of all the business cues, I went
down, hunted out something to wear, put on my trusty "beauty" wig,
hurriedly went over the second act with an assistant conductor, finding
my memory was standing the strain, and then stood trembling in the
wings. I thought to myself "Nemesis!" and shivered. What I hoped
was--that if Madame really was going to have to give up it might be just
before the lovely "Warnung" behind the scenes, because I had always
wanted to sing that.

There I stood and the rouge soaked into my face as it always
mysteriously does, when one is not at one's best, leaving me pale and
anxious--a real _Brangaene_. Poor Madame Kirkby-Lunn sang just as
beautifully as ever though, but fainted after the second act. I went
into her dressing room and offered to do the last bit and let her go
home after her plucky fight. She, however, said she realized it was a
thankless task for a singer to finish another singer's performance, and
that she would not think of asking me to do it. She rested awhile, I
still hovering, as requested by the management, till all was over; and I
then went home, more exhausted than if I had sung a performance, but
resolved to sin no more, and thanking my gods that I had not had to face
that critical assemblage without adequate preparation.

The Italian season was to come directly after ours, and they all came
drifting in during our last days, to report