and
Sieglinde love, Dearest, is it not? But he loves me. Don't be cross to
him for loving me. He can't help it. And he says we must all live
together, if--" ...

The singer closed her eyes and the corners of her mouth became tense.
Then she looked at her daughter almost fiercely. Hilda was terrified.

"Tell me, Hilda, swear to me, and think of what you are saying: Do you
love Albert?"

"With my heart," answered the girl in all her white simplicities.

Her mother laughed and arose.

"Then you silly little goose, you shall marry him and be nice and
unhappy." Hilda cried with joy: "I don't care if I am unhappy with
_him_."

"Idiot!" replied the other.

That night "Goetterdaemmerung" was given. The conductor dragged the tempi;
the waits were interminable, and a young slip of a girl wonderingly
watched. Her mother was the Brynhild. The performance was redeemed by
the magnificent singing of the Immolation scene....

Later Brynhild faced her mirror and asked no favor of it. As she
uncoiled the heavy ropes of hair her eyes grew harsh, and for a moment
her image seemed blurred and bitter in the oval glass with the burnished
frame that stood upon the dressing-table. But at last she would achieve
the unique Brynhild!...

"Entbehren sollst du, sollst entbehren."

THE QUEST OF THE ELUSIVE

_To Miss Bella Seymour_

BALAK, _November 5_.

DEAR DARLING OLD BELLA,--How I wish you were with me. I miss
you almost as much as mamma and the girls. I've had such a homesickness
that even the elegant concerts, the gay city and the novelty of this out
of the way foreign place do not compensate, for Why, oh _why_, doesn't
Herr Klug live in Berlin or Paris, or even Vienna? Think, after you
leave Vienna you must travel six hours by boat and three by rail before
you reach Balak, but what a city, what curious houses, and what an opera
house!

Let me first tell you of my experiences with Herr Klug. I met the
Ransoms; you remember those queer Michigan avenue people. They are here
with their mother--snuffy Mother Ransom we used to call her--and are
both studying with Herr Klug. I met them on the Ringstrasse--the
principal avenue here--and they looked so dissatisfied when they saw me.
Ada, the short, thin one, you know--well, she lowered her parasol--say,
the weather is awful hot--and, honest, I believed she wasn't going to
speak to me. But Lizzie is the nice one, and she fairly ate me up. They
raved about Herr Klug. He is so