Ah, that journey to the end of Italy! Shall I ever forget it? Fortunately, Mr. Gatti had been able to assemble all his songsters--with the exception of Gilly, our French barytone, a prisoner of war in Austria--and we were to enjoy an agreeable and uneventful ocean trip home. It was while on shipboard, discussing the repertoire, that Toscanini suggested the immediate preparation of "Carmen" for my first appearance of the season. I jumped at the idea, the more so since I should have a role I had always longed to sing and which favored me as I had rarely been favored. Here was indeed an occasion to refute many an unkind rumor that I had lost my voice and would never sing again. And as for the acting, and looking--well, I smiled into the miserable little glass in my stateroom that did duty as a mirror, and blew myself a kiss of congratulation! Daily rehearsals were called, and I worked like a slave in the little stuffy dining-room of the ship to the accompaniment of a piano no better than it should be. Many a gypsy had come and gone, leaving New York mildly indifferent. There had been but one fascinating, unforgettable creature within our memory, the incomparable Calve! Not one leaf of her coronet of laurel had so much as quivered! [Illustration: WORK AND PLAY IN CALIFORNIA] The eventful evening came at last, and I need not dwell upon the wonderful success that attended the brilliant revival of this well-loved opera under Toscanini's splendid direction. Later in the same season was to come the amusing "Madame Sans Gene," chiefly interesting for its novelty and touches of comedy. Added to the fortunate operatic successes, I had made several concert _tournees_, my contract with the record-makers had been rigidly kept, and to succeed in all these artistic directions, the well-being of the voice had ever primarily to be considered. When the fateful time came that I paid the toll of overwork and my throat was temporarily crippled, my mind was doubly alive and in acute anguish. Inactivity to me has always been something not to be borne. I must have a vital interest with which to stimulate my energies and fancies. It was during those discouraging days that I bethought me of the very ardent advances that had been made to me relative to the moving pictures. Perhaps there was another field of expression, not to mention the very flattering financial considerations that were to accompany the offer, did I allow myself to be persuaded. No small amount of half-hearted condemnation and significant shoulder shrugging accompanied the announcement that I might seriously consider such a proposal. "Oh, Geraldine! How can you?" I heard on every hand. But why shouldn't I? I have never been the overcautious prima donna, swathed in cotton, silent, save for singing, for fear of undue fatigue upon the voice--the human vocalizer! No. I like the novel and the unusual always, and I _adore_ to act!