enly held him up for quite a week, while all his
natural occupations were neglected, and the spirit of sport was
humiliated and abashed. Also he had caroused in his time--who was there
in those first days at Kimberley and on the Rand who did not carouse,
when life was so hard, luck so uncertain, and food so bad; when men got
so dead beat, with no homes anywhere--only shake-downs and the Tents of
Shem? Once he had had a native woman summoned to be his slave, to keep
his home; but that was a business which had revolted him, and he had
never repeated the experiment. Then, there had been an adventuress, a
wandering, foreign princess who had fooled him and half a dozen of his
friends to the top of their bent; but a thousand times he had preferred
other sorts of pleasures--cards, horses, and the bright outlook which
came with the clinking glass after the strenuous day.

Jasmine seemed to divine it all as she looked at him--his primitive,
almost Edenic sincerity; his natural indolence and native force: a
nature that would not stir until greatly roused, but then, with an
unyielding persistence and concentrated force, would range on to its
goal, making up for a slow-moving intellect by sheer will, vision and a
gallant heart.

Al'mah was singing again, and Byng leaned forward eagerly. There was a
rustle in the audience, a movement to a listening position, then a
tense waiting and attention.

As Jasmine composed herself she said in a low voice to Ian Stafford,
whose well-proportioned character, personality, and refinement of
culture were in such marked contrast to the personality of the other:
"They live hard lives in those new lands. He has wasted much of
himself."

"Three millions at thirty-three means spending a deal of one thing to
get another," Ian answered a little grimly.

"Hush! Oh, Ian, listen!" she added in a whisper.

Once more Al'mah rose to mastery over the audience. The bold and
generous orchestration, the exceptional chorus, the fine and brilliant
tenor, had made a broad path for her last and supreme effort. The
audience had long since given up their critical sense, they were ready
to be carried into captivity again, and the surrender was instant and
complete. Now, not an eye was turned away from the singer. Even the
Corinthian gallant at the end of the first row of stalls gave himself
up to feasting on her and her success, and the characters in the opera
were as electrified as the audience.

For a whole se