nd death, with an
element of chance which chess has not; your foot may slip, your eye may
be dazzled by a ray of light or a sudden reflection, or if you are not
a first-rate player you may miscalculate your distance by four inches,
which, in steel, is exactly enough; or if the weapons are fire-arms you
may aim a little too high or too low, or the other man may, and that
little will mean the difference between time and eternity.

But in the scale of emotion and excitement the theatre comes next to
fighting, whether you be the author of the play or opera to be given
for the first time before the greatest and most critical audience in
the world, or the actor, or actress, or singer, who has not yet been
heard or seen and of whom wonders are expected on the great night.

Margaret had not believed it true, though she had often heard it, and
now she was amazed at the strangeness of the physical sensation which
came over her and grew till it was almost intolerable. It was not
fright, for she longed for the moment of appearing; it was not ordinary
nervousness, for she felt that she was as steady as a rock, and now and
then, when she tried a few notes, to 'limber' her voice, it was steady,
too, and exactly what it always was. Yet she felt as if some
tremendous, unseen shape of strength had hold of her and were pressing
her to itself; and then again, she was sure that she was going to see
something unreal in her brightly-lighted, whitewashed dressing-room,
and that if she did see it, she should be frightened. But she saw
nothing; nothing but the dresses she was to wear, the handsome court
gown of the second act, the limp purple silk tights, the doublet, long
cloak and spurred boots of the third, all laid out carefully in their
newness, on the small sofa and the chairs. She saw Madame Bonanni's
cadaverous maid, too, standing motionless and ready if wanted, and
looking at her with a sort of inscrutable curiosity; for the retired
prima donna had insisted upon doing Margaret the signal service of
passing on to her one of the most accomplished theatrical dressers in
Europe. A woman who had made Madame Bonanni look like Juliet or Lucia
could make Margarita da Cordova look a goddess from Olympus; and she
did, from the theatrical point of view. But Margaret was not yet used
to seeing herself in the glass when her face was made up, beautifully
though it was done, and she kept away from the two mirrors as much as
she could while she slowly