The next day Cyrus and his father were in the wicked city. The important business of the following morning was taking the boy to a fashionable establishment and fitting him out in stylish raiment. And when the deed was done Dr. Alton realized that Cyrus, in these new, well fitting clothes, with his intelligent face and erect little figure, was not a boy to be ashamed of. "To-night," said Dr. Alton, "we go to the opera." "Opera." And Cyrus repeated the new word. "Opera. What is that, father?" "It's a theater, where they sing." "Isn't the circus better?" "Well, yes; sometimes it is better. But you come to the opera with me to-night and to-morrow I will take you to the Hippodrome. That's fair, isn't it?" Cyrus agreed that it was. To a boy of eight, who has never been to any theater, Grand Opera is a strong beginning. When he and his father took their seats--seats not too far from the stage--Cyrus, in wonder, looked about him and above him, at the vast auditorium, the gorgeous architecture, the radiant women and their flashing jewels. And so many of them! This was a new world of which he had never heard. Wide open were his eyes; also his mouth--and all his senses. He absorbed everything. The overture filled him to the brim with a celestial joy. Such music he had not imagined. Then, to his surprise, all the lights were lowered and the vast chamber was in gloom. And when, the next moment, the great curtain began slowly to ascend, disclosing the scene behind, then, indeed, came the culmination of his joy and amazement. What followed was bewildering--the music and the changing lights; the peasants, the soldiers and the kings and queens. And everybody singing! Then the ballet, with the fairies! The boy was enchanted. But, among the many figures, there was one that stood out the clearest. It was a woman. Her face, her voice, her singing and her story moved him beyond any of the others. The words that were sung were strange words and they told him nothing, but he guessed the story. This lovely woman with a lovely voice had a diadem in her hair and was in trouble--troubled by a hateful man in splendid clothes, with lavender legs. But, however deep her trouble, she sang so well and in such a heavenly voice that the whole audience applauded her, again and again. It was clear, even to a child, that she was the queen of the evening, the star of stars. And once, between two acts, when she came out upon the stage, between the good lover and the wicked nobleman, bowing to the audience in acknowledgment of flowers, Cyrus saw, and saw so clearly there was no mistake, that she looked directly at him, Cyrus, and at his father! And as she saw them, she bowed and smiled more radiantly than ever! And so clear it was that he looked up and whispered: "Why, father, she was bowing to us!" He saw his father was smiling back at her as he murmured, "Yes--she is." That, in itself, was exhilarating.