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Updated: May 7, 2025
I I went round to Madame Sennier's box with Claude Adelaide Shiffney and Armand Gillier were in it! and congratulated her. Madre, we faced the music." Her voice quivered slightly. Mrs. Mansfield impulsively took her child's hands and held them. "We faced the music. Claude is strong. I never knew what he was before. Without that tremendous failure I never should have known him. He helped me.
After he had gone she moved across the court to the fountain and sat down at its edge. She was trembling now, and her excitement was growing in solitude. But she still had the desire to govern it, the hope that she would be able to do so. She felt that she had been grossly insulted by Gillier. But she was not only angry with him.
Charmian sat quite still, her arms hanging, her eyes fixed on the gap, her cheeks still very white. Just as the applause seemed fading beyond recall Claude stepped through the gap, followed by Armand Gillier. Once more the cries were heard. The applause revived. Charmian gazed at Claude. His face, she thought, looked set but quite calm.
She and Adelaide Shiffney had been frank with each other in the matter, and she had no intention of making any mistake because she was angry. "We haven't much time to spare. Jacques has to get on with his new opera." Gillier sat down on a chair with a certain cold and reluctant but definite politeness. His look and manner said: "I cannot, of course, leave this lady whom I hate."
But she sat well forward in the box, and, though she saw two opera-glasses levelled at her, she lifted her hands again and clapped till Armand Gillier passed out of sight. In the red sitting-room at the St. Regis Hotel a supper-table was laid for three people. It was decorated with some lilies-of-the-valley and white heather, which Jacob Crayford had sent in the afternoon to the "little lady."
Shiffney thought she was perhaps on the edge of something that might be more amusing than a mere wiping off the slate. Of course Claude Heath and Gillier would be at dinner. It would be rather fun to see Claude's face when she walked in with Henriette and Max Elliot. She got up and stood by the rail; and now she looked down on Claude with intention, willing that he should look up at her.
Alston Lake's family and most of his many friends were in the stalls, where Armand Gillier had a seat close to a gangway, so that he could easily slip out to pay his homage to Enid Mardon. His head was soaked with eau-de-quinine. On his muscular hands he wore thick white kid gloves. And he gazed at his name on the programme with almost greedy eyes. Mrs.
His manner, too, was more animated. Nevertheless, Charmian noticed that from time to time he regarded her with the oddly furtive look at which she had wondered before dinner. Presently Gillier found himself alone with Charmian. Susan Fleet and Claude were pacing up and down in the garden among the geraniums. Charmian and Gillier sat at the edge of the court.
"But, of course, you don't. Well, then!" She put both her hands palm downward on the divan, and, speaking slowly with an emphasis that was cutting, and stretching her body till her shoulders were slightly raised, she said: "Just now, while Susan and you were in the garden, Armand Gillier asked me if we would give up his libretto." "Give up the libretto?"
Her hands fell apart, dropped to her sides mechanically. Still cries, separated, far, it seemed, from one another, went up. "Heath! Heath!" Charmian now heard distinctly. "Gillier! Author! Author!" The curtains moved. One was drawn back. A strangely shaped gap showed itself. But for a long moment no one emerged through this gap. And again the applause died down.
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