dark rings under his eyes, and moved his
hands nervously while he was speaking.

"That was it!" exclaimed Alston.

"Yes, that was it."

Charmian and Alston exchanged a quick glance.

"When you've done the finale," Alston said, with the firmness of one who
spoke with permission, even perhaps by special request, "will the opera
be practically finished?"

"Finished? Good Heavens, no!"

"Well, but if it's the finale of the whole opera?" said Charmian.

"I've got bits here and there to do, and a lot to re-do."

Again Charmian and the American exchanged glances.

"I say, old chap," said Alston. "You read Balzac, don't you?"

"Of course. But what has that to do with the opera?"

"Did you ever read that story of his about a painter who was always
striving to attain perfection, could never let a picture alone, was for
ever adding new touches, painting details out and other details in? One
day he called in his friends to see his masterpiece. When they came they
found a mere mess of paint representing nothing."

"Well?" said Claude, rather stiffly.

"You've got a splendid talent. I hope you're going to trust it."

Claude said nothing, and Alston, in his easy, almost boyish way, glanced
off to some other topic. But before he started for England he said to
Charmian:

"Do watch him a bit if you can, Mrs. Charmian, for over-elaboration.
Don't let him work it to death, I mean, till all the spontaneity is
gone. I believe that's a danger with him. Somehow I think he lacks
complete confidence in himself."

"You see it's the first time he has ever tried to do an opera."

"I know. It's natural enough. But do watch out for over-elaboration."

"I'll try to. But I have to be very careful with Claude."

"How d'you mean exactly?"

"He can be very reserved."

"Yes, but you know how to take him. And--well--we can't let the opera be
anything but a big success, can we?"

If Claude had heard that "we!"

"I say, shall we walk around the garden?" Alston added, after a pause.
"It isn't quite time to go, and I want to talk over things before Claude
comes down to see the last of me."

"Yes, yes."

They went out, and descended the steps from the terrace.

"I wanted to tell you, Mrs. Charmian, that I'm going to bring Crayford
over whatever happens, whether the opera's done or not. There's heaps
ready for him to judge by. And you must read him the libretto."

"I?" exclaimed Charmian, startled.

"Yes, you. Study it up! Reci