Somehow I got home and sobbed myself to sleep on my mother's shoulder, utterly worn out by the nervous strain and cruel fatigue of the previous weeks. Ah! Adorable, unforgettable blossom of Japan! Thanks to your gentle ways, that night I placed my foot on the rung of the ladder that leads to the firmament of stars! When I don your silken draperies and voice your sweet faith in the haunting melodies that envelop you, then are all eyes dim and hearts atune to your every appeal for sympathy! "Butterfly" brought me in touch as well with that past master of stagecraft, David Belasco. To my great delight he was enthusiastic over my portrayal of this little heroine who was the child of his heart and brain in the drama. I may own that every time we meet and he says, half laughingly, half quizzically, "Well, when are you going to forsake opera and come into the drama?" I am almost tempted to make an experiment of such interest, for the theater has always made a strong appeal to my dramatic instincts. Who knows? Some day may see me a candidate for such honors if I take his invitation seriously! Meanwhile, I was wondering just how my artistic status was going to grow under conditions prevailing in our opera house. My repertoire was extensive in my contract, but limited on the actual billboards, owing to a predominance of prima donnas. Patience, with a big P, did not seem to help my ambitions much. [Illustration: BELASCO, "THAT PAST MASTER OF STAGECRAFT" SIGNED PHOTO: To Gerladine Farrar Our American born song bird in whose art I glory. Faithfully, David Belasco.] Finally the company went on the annual spring tour, and I have a confused remembrance of much traveling, new audiences and hard work. I loved Chicago from the first, and its enthusiastic support is always reliable, whether I visit there in opera or in concert. During the winter Gailhard had negotiated and secured my services for a special spring season, so that after the Metropolitan season I was to realize another cherished ambition and appear in the regular repertoire of the Paris Opera. With these plans for the spring, Berlin in the autumn, and New York all winter, I was running perilously near the danger line of overwork. My physician advised caution, less work and more absolute rest, not to take my career so strenuously, as even my exuberant spirits would not indefinitely respond to my madly driven energy. But I could not then call a halt. My star was waxing. I must go on. I would pay the penalty later--and I did! My Paris debut was effected under difficulties. The steamer was delayed; my trunks went astray; and, to add to my distress, three polite gentlemen took the trouble to meet me at Cherbourg, to tell me I had a day to arrive in, one day to rehearse, and the third day in which to persuade "La Ville Lumiere" of my artistic worth. But the occasion was like a whip to a race-horse. It never occurred to me to refuse, despite my consternation.