terribly afraid. She feared the decisive
moment. She wished she were not in the theater. She thought of the
asking eyes of the pressmen, expressing silently but definitely the
great demand of this wonderful city, this wonderful country: "Be a
success!" If that demand were not complied with! She recalled the
notoriety she and Claude had had out here, the innumerable attentions
which had been showered upon them, the interest which had been shown in
them, the expectations aroused by Claude. She recalled the many
allusions that had been made to herself in the papers, the interviews
with the "clever wife" who had done so much for her husband, the columns
about her expedition to Paris to get Gillier's libretto for Claude.
Crayford had taken good care that the "little lady" should have her full
share of the limelight. Now, through shut eyelids she saw it blaze like
an enemy.

If the opera should go down despite all that had been done how could she
endure the situation that would be hers? But it would not go down. She
remembered that she had once heard that fear of a thing attracts that
thing to you. Was she who had been so full of will, so resolute, so
persistent, so marvellously successful up to a point, going to be a
craven now, going to show the white feather? When that evening began she
had been sitting in the front of the box, in full view of the audience.
Now she was sitting in the shadow, clasping a woman's hand. Claude had
gone to the front of the box when she retreated. Now, in a very few
minutes, he was going to face the great multitude. He was showing will,
grit, to-night. And she felt, she knew, that, whatever the occasion,
there was in Claude something strong enough to turn a bold front to it
to-night, perhaps on any night or any day of the year. She must help
him. Whether he could see her from the stage, she did not know. She
doubted it. But he knew where she was sitting. He might look for her at
such a moment. He might miss her if she were hidden away in the shadow
like a poltroon.

She drew her hand away from Susan's, got up, and took her place alone in
the front of the box, in sight of all the people in the stalls, in
sight also of Mrs. Shiffney and Madame Sennier. Susan remained where she
was. She felt that Charmian needed to be alone just then. She liked her
for the impulse which she had divined.

At last the curtain fell.

People applauded.

"This is the American way," Charmian was saying to herself.