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Updated: May 7, 2025
She went to put on her hat and her sealskin coat. She longed, yet dreaded to start. When they arrived at the stage-door of the Opera House the dark young man came from his office on the right with his hands full of letters, and, smiling, distributed them to Charmian, Claude and Gillier. "It will be a go!" he said, in a clear voice. "Everyone says so. Mr. Crayford is up in his office.
Another is, however, that if you will consent to sell me back my libretto I believe I could get it taken up by a man, a composer, who is more in sympathy with me and my artistic aims than you could ever be." "I see. And what about all the months of work I have put in? What about all the music I have composed? Are you here to ask me to throw it away, or what?" Gillier was silent.
Claude Heath had gone into the café on the other side of the road, and was now sitting alone at a little table on the terrace which projects into the Place beneath the Hôtel de Paris. Mrs. Shiffney saw a waiter take his order and bring him coffee, while a little Arab, kneeling, set to work on his boots. All day long Claude and Gillier had remained invisible. Mrs.
Charmian presently heard Gillier moving restlessly behind her. Then she heard a snap of metal and knew that he had just looked at his watch. What was Adelaide doing? What was she thinking? What did she think of this breakdown? Everything had been going so well. But now no doubt things would go badly. "Will they ever start again?" Charmian asked herself. "What can they be talking about?
Against his will he was with them now in the great enterprise. They had resolved to be charming to him, and had taken care to be so. And Gillier, delighted with the notoriety that was his, his conceit decked out with feathers, met them half-way. He was impressed by the situation which Crayford's powerful efforts had created for them. He was moved by the marked change in Claude.
Charmian wanted so much to see him, to hear his account of the whole matter, that she telegraphed: "Come back as soon as you can they have gone very dull here. She knew that in sending this telegram she was coming out of her rôle; but her nerves drove her into the weakness. Within a week Claude and Gillier returned.
"I haven't got anything to sell at present," he almost growled, in a very low voice. "That's a pity. We must hope for the future. There is no reason why you and I should be mortal enemies since you haven't had a chance to murder my poor old cabbage." "He's a coward," said Gillier. "Of course he is. And I'm very thankful for it. Cowards live long." She got up from the settee.
"Surely your proposition isn't a serious one?" said Claude, still speaking with complete self-control. "But I say it is! I say" Gillier raised his voice "that it is serious. I am a poor man, and I am sick of waiting for success. I sold my libretto to you in a hurry, not knowing what I was doing.
"Why, here's a letter for you, Claudie!" she said, giving it to him. "Is there? Another autograph hunter, I suppose." Without glancing at the writing he tore the envelope, took out a letter, and began to read it. "It's from Mrs. Shiffney!" he said. "She arrived to-day on the same ship as Gillier." "I knew she would come!" cried Charmian.
"Show me a fine libretto!" "Tell me how much you'd pay." She laughed. "Five times as much as anyone else offered you. But you would have to prove the offer to my satisfaction." Gillier fidgeted on his chair, took hold of the Dépêche Algérienne, and began carefully to fold it into pleats. "I should want a royalty," he said, keeping his shining eyes on her.
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