nd-rate artists, climbing laboriously in the wake of the
real first-rates, and wishing that these would die and get out of the
way, feel a hopeless sinking at the heart as they hear behind them the
rush of another coming genius. The tired critics sleep less soundly in
the front row of the stalls, the fine and frivolous ladies who come to
the opera to talk the whole evening are told that for once they will
have to be silent, the reporters put on little playful airs of mystery
to say that they have been allowed to assist at a marvellous rehearsal
or have been admitted to see the future diva putting on her cloak after
a final interview with Schreiermeyer, whose attitude before her is
described as being that of the donor of the picture in an old Italian
altar-piece.

And all this is not mere advertisement; much of it is, in fact, nothing
of the sort, and is not even suggested by Schreiermeyer, for he knows
perfectly well that one performance will place his new star very nearly
at her true value before the public, who will flock to hear her and
take infinite pains to find out where and when she is going to sing the
next time. It is just the outward, healthy stir that goes before
certain kinds of theatrical success, and which is quite impossible
where most other arts are concerned; perhaps--I suggest it with
apologies to all living prima donnas and first tenors--the higher the
art, the less can success be predicted. Was ever a great painter, a
great sculptor or a great poet 'announced'? On the other hand, was
there ever a great singer who was not appreciated till after death?

The public probably did not hear the name of Margaret Donne till much
later, and then, with considerable indifference, but long before
Margarita da Cordova made her _debut_, her name was repeated, with more
or less mistakes and eccentricities of pronunciation, from mouth to
mouth, in London and Paris, and was even mentioned in St. Petersburg,
Berlin and New York. Every one connected with the musical world, even
if only as a regular spectator, felt that something extraordinary was
coming.

Madame Bonanni wrote to Margaret that she wished to see her, and would
come over to Paris expressly, if Margaret would only telegraph. She
would come out to Versailles, she would make the acquaintance of that
charming Mrs. Rushmore. Margaret wondered what would happen if the two
women met, and what mutual effect they would produce upon each other,
but her knowledge