oman would be watching her.

Then something that was almost like an intoxication of the senses,
something that, though it was born in the mind, seemed intimately
physical, came upon, rushed over Charmian. It was the intoxication of an
acute ambition which believed itself close to fulfilment. Life seemed
very wonderful to her. Scarcely could she imagine anything more
wonderful than life holding the gift she asked for, the gift something
in her demanded. And she connected love with ambition, even with
notoriety. She conceived of a satisfied ambition drawing two human
beings together, cementing their hearts together, merging their souls in
one.

"How I shall love Claude triumphant!" she thought exultantly, even
passionately, as if she were thinking of a man new made, more lovable by
a big measure than he had been before. And she saw love triumphant with
wings of flame mounting into the regions of desire, drawing her soul up.

"Claude's triumph will develop me," she thought. "Through it I shall
become the utmost of which I am capable. I am one of those women who can
only thrive in the atmosphere of glory."

Claude triumphant, and made triumphant by her! She cherished that
imagination. She became possessed by it.

Everything conspired to keep that imagination alive and powerful within
her. Crayford was an enthusiast for the opera, and infected all those
who belonged to him, who were connected with his magnificent theater,
with his own enthusiasm. The scene-painter, who had, almost with genius,
prepared exquisite Eastern pictures, was an enthusiast foreseeing that
he would gain in the opera the triumph of his career. The machinist was
"fairly wild" about the opera. Had he not invented the marvellous locust
effect, which was to be a new sensation? Mr. Mulworth, by dint of
working with fury and sitting up all night, had become fanatical about
the opera. He existed only for it. No thought of any other thing could
find a resting-place in his mind. His "production" was going to be a
masterpiece such as had never before been known in the history of the
stage. Nothing had been forgotten. He had brought the East to New York.
It was inconceivable by him that New York could reject it. He spoke
about the music, but he meant his "production." The man was a marvel in
his own line, and such a worker as can rarely be found anywhere. He
believed the opera was going to mark an epoch in the history of the
lyric stage. And he said so, almo