"I am not jealous," said Lady Chandos, "but it seems to me only natural that I should like to know where my husband passes his time." The older and wiser woman thought to herself, with a sigh, that it might be quite as well that she should not know. CHAPTER XLIII. "DEATH ENDS EVERYTHING." Madame Vanira became one of the greatest features of the day. Her beauty and her singing made her the wonder of the world. Royalty delighted to honor her. One evening after she had entranced a whole audience, keeping them hanging, as it were, on every silvery note that came from her lovely lips--people were almost wild over her--they had called her until they were tired. Popular enthusiasm had never been so aroused. And then the greatest honor ever paid to any singer was paid to her. Royal lips praised her and the highest personage in the land presented her with a diamond bracelet, worthy of the donor and the recipient. Her triumph was at its height; that night the opera in which she played was the "Crown Diamonds." Her singing had been perfection, her acting magnificent; she bad electrified the audience as no other _artiste_ living could have done; her passion, her power, her genius had carried them with her. When she quitted the stage it was as though they woke from a long trance of delight. That evening crowned her "Queen of Song." No one who saw her ever forgot her. The next morning the papers raved about her; they prophesied a new era for music and for the stage; it was, perhaps, the most triumphant night of her great career. She had the gift which makes an actress or a singer; she could impress her individuality on people; she made a mark on the hearts and minds of those who saw her that was never effaced; her gestures, her face, her figure, her magnificent attitudes stood out vivid and clear, while they lived distinct from any others. "Where royalty smiles, other people laugh," says the old proverb. No sooner was it known that the warmest praise kindly and royal lips could give had been given to Madame Vanira than she became at once the darling of the world of fashion. Invitations poured in upon her, the most princely mansions in London were thrown open to her; the _creme de la creme_ of the _elite_ sought her eagerly; there was nothing like her; her beauty and her genius inthralled every one. The time came when she was the most popular and the most eagerly sought after woman in London, yet she cared little for society; her art was the one thing she lived for, and her friendship with Lord Chandos. One day she said to him: "I have never seen Lady Marion. What is she like?" He noticed then and afterward that she never spoke of the queen of blondes as Lady Chandos, or as "your wife," but always as Lady Marion.