illier.

Elliot had a very kind heart, and by its light he sometimes read clearly
a human prose that did not please him. Now, as he lay in his narrow
berth in the _wagon-lit_ jolting toward Constantine, he read some of
Adelaide Shiffney's prose. Faintly, for the train was noisy, he heard
voices in the next compartment, where Mrs. Shiffney and Madame Sennier
were talking in their berths. Mrs. Shiffney was in the top berth. That
fact gave the measure of Madame Sennier's iron will.

"You really believe it?" cried Madame Sennier.

"How is one to know? But Crayford is moving Heaven and earth to find a
genius. He may have his eye on Claude Heath. He believes in _les
jeunes_."

"Jacques is forty."

"If one has arrived it doesn't matter much what age one is."

"You don't think Crayford can have given this man a secret commission to
compose an opera?"

"Oh, no. Why should he? Besides, if he had, she would have let it out.
She could never have kept such a thing to herself."

"Max thought his music wonderful, didn't he?"

"Yes, but it was all sacred. Te Deums, and things of that sort that
nobody on earth would ever listen to."

"I should like to see the libretto."

"What? I can't hear. I'm right up against the roof, and the noise is
dreadful."

"I say, I should like to see the libretto!" almost screamed Madame
Sennier.

"Probably it's one that Jacques refused."

"No, it can't be."

"What?"

"No, it can't be. He never saw a libretto that was Algerian. And this
one evidently is. I wonder if it's a good one."

"Make him show it to you."

"Gillier! He wouldn't. He hates us both."

"Not Gillier, Claude Heath."

"What?"

Mrs. Shiffney leaned desperately out over the side of her narrow berth.

"Claude Heath--or I'll make him."

"I never cared very much for the one Jacques is setting for the
Metropolitan. But it was the best sent in. I chose it. I read nearly a
hundred. It would be just like Gillier to write something really fine,
and then not to let us see it. I always knew he was clever and might
succeed some day."

"I'll get hold of it for you."

"What?"

"I'll get hold of it for you from Heath. When will Jacques be ready, do
you think?"

"Oh, not for ages. He works slowly, and I never interfere with him.
Nobody but a fool would interfere with the method of a man of genius."

"Do you think Charmian Heath is a fool?"

At this moment the train suddenly slackened, and Mrs. Shiffney and
Madame Senn