cry,
and instantly Madame Bonanni led her quickly away towards her
dressing-room, a little shaken and in a very bad temper with the men
who had carried her.

'I knew they would be clumsy!' she said.

'So did I,' answered her friend. 'That is why I came round to meet
you.'

They entered the dim corridor together, and an instant later they both
heard the sharp click of a door hastily closed at the other end. It was
not the door of Margaret's dressing-room, for that was wide open and
the light from within fell across the dark paved floor, nor was it the
door of the contralto's room, for that was ajar when they passed it.
She had not come in to dress yet.

'That door does not shut well,' Margaret said, indifferently.

'No,' answered Madame Bonanni, in a rather preoccupied tone. 'Where is
your maid?'

The cadaverous maid came up very quickly from behind, overtaking them
with Margaret's grey linen duster.

'They did not carry Mademoiselle out at the usual fly,' she said. 'I
was waiting there.'

'They were abominably clumsy,' Margaret said, still very much annoyed.
'They almost hurt me, and somebody had the impertinence to double-knot
the handkerchief after I had arranged it! I'll send for Schreiermeyer
at once, I think! If I hadn't solid nerves a thing like that might ruin
my _debut_!'

The maid smiled discreetly. The dress rehearsal for Margaret's _debut_
was not half over yet, but she had already the dominating tone of the
successful prima donna, and talked of sending at once for the
redoubtable manager, as if she were talking about scolding the
call-boy. And the maid knew very well that if sent for Schreiermeyer
would come and behave with relative meekness, because he had a
prospective share in the fortune which was in the Cordova's throat.

But Madame Bonanni was in favour of temporising.

'Don't send for him, my dear,' she said. 'Getting angry is very bad for
the voice, and your duet with Rigoletto in the next act is always
trying.

They were in the dressing-room now, all three women, and the door was
shut.

'Is it all right?' Margaret asked, sitting down and looking into the
glass. 'Am I doing well?'

'You don't need me to tell you that! You are magnificent! Divine! No
one ever began so well as you, not even I, my dear, not even I myself!'

This was said with great emphasis. Nothing, perhaps, could have
surprised Madame Bonanni more than that any one should sing better at
the beginning than she ha