”

Rosa coughed, and I noticed that her voice was slightly hoarse.

“You have taken cold during the drive,” I said, pouring into the sea of French a little stream of English.

“Oh, no. It is nothing; it will pass off in a minute.”

The stage-manager escorted me to a chair near a grand piano which stood in the wings. Then some male artists, evidently people of importance, appeared out of the darkness at the back of the stage. Rosa took off her hat and gloves, and placed them on the grand piano. I observed that she was flushed, and I put it down to the natural excitement of the artist about to begin work. The orchestra sounded resonantly in the empty theatre, and, under the yellow glare of unshaded electricity, the rehearsal of