delio_. The
applause which greeted her as she advanced on the stage was perhaps a
tribute to her superb beauty and perfect grace. She was paler than
usual, her large black eyes were full of that intense light which only
emotion gives, but she showed no embarrassment, and felt none. She saw
not the faces, heard not the plaudits. She was alone with her art. Her
soul went forth into the song, and one listened in rapture, touched with
pain that aught so sweet should be so evanescent. When the wonderful
voice seemed to die like a vanishing soul there was silence for a
moment--silence most eloquent of eulogies--and then came a burst of
applause, the most enthusiastic that ever relieved a listener's heart or
charmed a singer's ear.

The concert ended. Her father, proud and exultant, clasped her in his
arms. Did he hear the whispers that Leonie's quick ear caught? "Colonel
Regnault's daughter, the opera-singer's child. You remember that old
story?"--"Ah, indeed! Wonderfully like her mother: more distinguished
manner. Something of her father too. Will Regnault let her go on the
stage, do you think?"--"I cannot tell. Il est fou d'elle. He brings her
up in his own family."--"Vraiment? Good wife, Madame Regnault." Leonie
shrank involuntarily from her father's embrace.

The competitive examinations came, and naturally Leonie received the
highest prize in singing.

"I do not envy you, mademoiselle," said one of the unsuccessful
candidates with a look and tone that accentuated the sneer: "there are
other things that people inherit besides their musical talents."

"There will be plenty of spitefulness for your children to inherit,
whether there is any talent or not," retorted Leonie, her eyes flashing
with resentful pride. It was the first time that any one had
deliberately alluded to the taint upon her birth, and it stung.

"I have something to tell you," said her father to Leonie a few days
after. "The director of the opera has been talking to me about you. He
is only waiting for my consent to bring you out at the Imperial Opera."

Leonie's face lighted up with a quick gleam of surprise and pleasure,
which was followed by a sudden terror.

"You may think it strange that I felt any reluctance: you are so young
that you do not know enough of society to appreciate the objections. Not
that there are any insuperable objections. In an art-loving community
like ours the career of a great artist is prouder than a queen's."

The colo