"My throat," he went on, "can be in bad shape, and a drop of atropia now and then will keep me hoarse enough for our purpose--just at first. Young Fitzallen [Sybil's hand clenched suddenly], who is quite up in the lines, will take my place 'at short notice to oblige,' and--and, well, after a while we will find some excuse for continuing him in the part. 'Sufficient unto the day,' I have to scurry a bit about the printing and the finding of the young man. He will have to wear some of my costumes; you won't mind that, I hope--Monday night is so very close. He will come over here about ten or half-past in the morning to rehearse with you, and you must be very exacting about the 'business.' See that nothing is forgotten; the public is quick to miss anything it has become accustomed to. The balcony scene [the girl's figure seemed to writhe among the cushions] is--very--important--and--" He stopped, and then quite suddenly he turned toward the door, saying: "I'll do my best to save you from the degradation you dread. I'll send your new Romeo to you early." Like pictures on a scroll, she saw all the tender love-scenes, growing one out from another, ever sweeter, stronger, more intense, and at the balcony of Juliet's chamber, at the farewell embrace--that the applause made long--she thought "another's arms about me, another's eyes searching mine," and so, shuddering, repulsion seized upon her and wrung from her lips the cry: "No! no! don't! Oh, don't! I could not bear it--I should die!" She was standing, one bent knee among the cushions, leaning forward on one supporting arm. He turned. "Sybil--do you mean--you will have mercy on me--that you will try for art's sake to forget the man in the actor? Oh, beloved, if you could believe! To my arid life you brought freshness and strength and reverence--yes, in spite of my sin against you, oh, wife of my soul! Pity me! my sin is very hard to bear!" Suddenly she stretched out her arms to him. With wide, almost unbelieving eyes he sank on his knees before her, asking, faintly: "You pity me? But, oh, you cannot forgive?" She took his head between her hands and kissed his brow, saying: "To love is to forgive!" He gave a cry and started to his feet. A deadly paleness came upon her face. "I am not strong enough," she said, "for martyrdom--alas! I am no child of light! But where I love--be it strength or be it weakness--I love forever!" His arms closed about her, her weary head sank upon his breast. He stooped and kissed her tenderly, solemnly. She lifted her heavy eyes and added "My fidelity shall be my purification!" CHAPTER XXVI THE OPAL