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Updated: May 21, 2025
Campanali and Rigard, whose sonorous bass tones have thrilled two continents, came gladly at the bidding of their old master, to whom they owed so much. The opera was "Faust." The house was packed from pit to dome, with seats in the aisles, and many great people. The Countess, trembling with excitement, had with her in her box her old friends the Townes, from London, for the event.
"It is a great undertaking for an absolutely unknown débutante to sing with Campanali, who will, nay, must, naturally take all the honors." Meanwhile, Katrine, in her little white room at the Countess de Nemours', had just written: DEAR UNKNOWN, I have shut every one out of my room and shall see them no more until afterward. Can I do it?
From the first scene to the clear end, when, in the divine trio, Campanali, Rigard, and Katrine caught fire from each other and went mad together, in that great, strong music where right triumphs, as the song climbs higher and higher in its great insistence, it was such triumph as no first performance had been in the memory of our generation, a success that admitted no cavilling or question, a success indisputable and unparalleled, and before the performance was ended the papers were chronicling, for the ends of the earth, that a world star had arisen in the firmament of song.
"Do look out for him," Katrine had said to Dermott, the night before, between tears and a smile. "I can get through it all right, but I am fearful it may kill Josef. He takes me very seriously, you know." A heavy knocking came. The leader took his place. The overture began, and when the curtain rose Campanali received the genuine ovation which was his due.
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