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Updated: May 19, 2025
"The camel species, the elephant-type, the cowlike ruminating specimen milky mother of the lowing herd, as an English poet has expressed it, and very well, too should" he flung out one little hairy hand vehemently "go with the advance of corset-makers and civilization. She comes!" The door had opened, and Charmian came in. Instantly her eyes fastened on Madame Sennier.
And now she had gone to Constantine, and taken Madame Sennier with her. Charmian remembered her inadvertence of the day before when she had said, perhaps scarcely with truth, that Jacob Crayford admired Claude's talent; the Frenchwoman's almost strangely blank expression and apparent utter indifference, her own uneasiness. That uneasiness returned now, and was accentuated. But what could happen?
He might miss her if she were hidden away in the shadow like a poltroon. She drew her hand away from Susan's, got up, and took her place alone in the front of the box, in sight of all the people in the stalls, in sight also of Mrs. Shiffney and Madame Sennier. Susan remained where she was. She felt that Charmian needed to be alone just then. She liked her for the impulse which she had divined.
People listening attentively are always silent. She blamed herself for her absurdity. Leaning a little forward she could just see the outline of Madame Sennier, sitting very upright in the front of her box, with one arm and hand on the ledge.
Mansfield could have known how solicitous, how tender, how motherly, the girl felt at that moment under her mask of shining, radiant hardness! But Mrs. Mansfield was glancing about the house with grave and even troubled eyes. Heath was talking to Madame Sennier. He was even sitting down beside her. She spoke, evidently with volubility, making rapid gestures with her hands. Then she paused.
He seized these two, who happened to be nearest to him, and, laughing like a child, but with imperative hands, compelled them to go out with him to the courtyard. Their steps died away on the pavement. The three women were left alone. "Shall we sit in the court?" said Charmian. "I think it's cooler there. There's a little breeze from the sea." "Let us go, then," said Madame Sennier.
Madame Sennier spoke of the terrific wall of rock from which, in the days before the French occupation, faithless wives were sometimes hurled to death by their Arab husbands. "C'est affreux!" she exclaimed, lapsing into French. She put up her hand to her veil, and pulled it tightly under her prominent chin with twisting fingers. "Les Arabes sont des monstres."
As Heath thought of Charmian's eyes he felt as if he knew very little of real life yet. She had turned away. Again and again Jacques Sennier had been called. He had returned with Annie Meredith, to whom he had made the gift of a splendid rôle. They shook hands before the audience, not perfunctorily, but as if they loved one another, were bound together, comrades in the beautiful.
A voice had whispered, "Be patient!" She realized the importance of the first step taken in public. Jacques Sennier had been utterly unknown in England. He appeared as the composer of the Paradis Terrestre. If he had been known already as the composer of a number of things which had left the public indifferent, would he have made the enormous success he had made?
Or had the fight really been between Joseph Crayford and the management of the Metropolitan Opera House? Gillier had finally remarked, "I must leave it to you, messieurs. All that matters to me is that my poor work should be helped to success by music and scenery, acting and singing. I am not responsible for what Madame Sennier, or anyone else, says to you."
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