"I think the passion of anguish and pain taught me to interpret the pains and joys of others. There is another opera I love--'L'Etoile du Nord.' The grave, tender, grand character of Catherine, with her passionate love, her despair, and her madness, holds me in thrall. There is no love without madness." A deep sigh from her companion aroused her, and she remembered that she was on dangerous ground; still the subject had a great charm for her. "If I ever wrote an opera," she said, "I should have jealousy for my ground-work." "Why?" he asked, briefly. "Because," she replied, "it is the strongest of all passions." "Stronger than love?" he asked. "I shall always think they go together," said Leone. "I know that philosophers call jealousy the passion of ignoble minds; I am not so sure of it. It goes, I think, with all great love, but not with calm, well-controlled affection. I should make it the subject of my opera, because it is so strong, so deep, so bitter; it transforms one, it changes angels into demons. We will not talk about it." She drew a little jeweled watch from her pocket. "Lord Chandos," she said, "we have been talking two hours, and you must not stay any longer." When he was gone she said to herself that she would not ask him any more questions about Lady Marion. CHAPTER XLIV. THE RIVALS FACE TO FACE. Madame de Chandalle gave a grand SOIREE, and she said to herself that it should be one of the greatest successes of the season. Three women were especially popular and sought after: Madame Vanira, whose beauty and genius made her queen of society; Lady Chandos, whose fair, tranquil loveliness was to men like the light of the fair moon, and Miss Bygrave, the most brilliant of brunettes--the most proud and exclusive of ladies. Madame de Chandalle thought if she could but insure the presence of all three at once, her _soiree_ would be the success of the season. She went in person to invite the great singer herself, a compliment she seldom paid to any one, and Leone at first refused. Madame de Chandalle looked imploringly at her. "What can I offer as an inducement? The loveliest woman in London, Lady Chandos, will be there. That will not tempt you, I am afraid." She little knew how much. As Leone heard the words, her heart beat wildly. Lady Chandos, the fair woman who was her rival. She had longed to see her, and here was a chance. She dreaded, yet desired to look at her, to see what the woman was like whom Lance had forsaken her for. The longing tempted her. "Your desire to welcome me," she said, gracefully, "is the greatest inducement you can offer me." And Madame de Chandalle smiled at her victory. Madame de Chandalle was the widow of an eminent French general. She preferred London to Paris. She was mistress of a large fortune, and gave the best entertainments of the season.