_ determined to triumph, and the
enthusiasm of an audience proudly conscious that it was making a
reputation, reacted upon and intensified each other to such a degree
that the atmosphere became electric, delirious, magical. Not a soul in
the auditorium or on the stage but what lived consummately during those
minutes--some creatively, like the conductor and Millicent; some
agonised with jealousy, like Florence Gardner and a few of the chorus;
one maternally in tumultuous distress of spirit; and the great naive
mass yielding with rapture to a sensuous spell.

The outstanding defect in the libretto of _Patience_ is the
decentralisation of interest in the second act. The alert ones who
remembered that in that act the heroine has only one song, and certain
passages of dialogue not remarkable for dramatic force, had predicted
that Millicent would inevitably lose ground as the evening advanced.
They were, however, deceived. Her delivery of the phrase 'I am miserable
beyond description' brought the house down by its coquettish
artificiality; and the renowned ballad, 'Love is a plaintive song,'
established her unforgettably in the affections of the audience. Her
'exit weeping' was a tremendous stroke, though all knew that she meant
them to see that these tears were simply a delightful pretence. The
opera came to a standstill while she responded to an imperative call.
She bowed, laughing, and then, suddenly affecting to cry again, ran off,
with the result that she had to return.

'D----n it! She hasn't got much to learn, has she?' the conductor
murmured to the first violin, a professional from Manchester.

But her greatest efforts she reserved for the difficult and critical
prose conversations which now alone remained to her, those dialogues
which seem merely to exist for the purpose of separating the numbers
allotted to all the other principals. It was as though, during the
entr'acte, surrounded by the paint-pots, the intrigues, and the wild
confusion of the dressing-room, Millicent had been able to commune with
herself, and to foresee and take arms against the peril of an
anti-climax. By sheer force, ingenuity, vivacity, flippancy, and
sauciness, she lifted her lines to the level, and above the level, of
the rest of the piece. She carried the audience with her; she knew it;
all her colleagues knew it, and if they chafed they chafed in secret.
The performance went better and better as the end approached. The
audience had long