nd opened the
door. The diva turned her head this way and that, a thin smile of
satisfaction stirring her lips. For Flora Desimone loved the human eye
whenever it stared admiration into her own; and she spent half her days
setting traps and lures, rather successfully. She and her formidable
escort got into the car which immediately went away with a soft purring
sound. There was breeding in the engine, anyhow, thought Courtlandt, who
longed to put his strong fingers around that luxurious throat which had,
but a second gone, passed him so closely.

"We shall never have war with Russia," said some one; "her dukes love
Paris too well."

Light careless laughter followed this cynical observation. Another time
Courtlandt might have smiled. He pushed his way into the passage leading
to the dressing-rooms, and followed its windings until he met a human
barrier. To his inquiry the answer was abrupt and perfectly clear in its
meaning: La Signorina da Toscana had given most emphatic orders not to
disclose her address to any one. Monsieur might, if he pleased, make
further inquiries of the directors; the answer there would be the same.
Presently he found himself gazing down the avenue once more. There were a
thousand places to go to, a thousand pleasant things to do; yet he
doddered, full of ill-temper, dissatisfaction, and self-contempt. He was
weak, damnably weak; and for years he had admired himself, detachedly, as
a man of pride. He started forward, neither sensing his direction nor the
perfected flavor of his Habana.

Opera singers were truly a race apart. They lived in the world but were
not a part of it, and when they died, left only a memory which faded in
one generation and became totally forgotten in another. What jealousies,
what petty bickerings, what extravagances! With fancy and desire
unchecked, what ingenious tricks they used to keep themselves in the
public mind,--tricks begot of fickleness and fickleness begetting. And
yet, it was a curious phase: their influence was generally found when
history untangled for posterity some Gordian knot. In old times they had
sung the _Marseillaise_ and danced the _carmagnole_ and indirectly plied
the guillotine. And to-day they smashed prime ministers, petty kings, and
bankers, and created fashions for the ruin of husbands and fathers of
modest means. Devil take them! And Courtlandt flung his cigar into the
street.

He halted. The Madeleine was not exactly the goal for a man w