"Like the caterwauling of erotic cats on a midnight roof," said he. "Brute!" she murmured, but he overheard. "Brute or no brute, this ocean of sentiment over a pint of catnip--was it worth the infinite bother Wagner gave himself to deliver a mouse from the belching volcano?" "It's a mouse now," she tartly replied, "before it was a tomcat. I admire your similes." "It doesn't matter much to me whether you do or do not." He was quite acid. "You don't know anything, while I've been listening to Tristan for years." "Why be cynical, even if you have heard it so often? It's a masterpiece among masterpieces"--she paused, breathless. "And I imagine," he continued, "you expect to sing Isolde some day better than Lilli." "I do, and if not better, that would be nearly an impossibility, at least I'll be a younger Irish Princess," she announced with the unconscious cruelty of youth. "But I'll first begin with Brangaene. That rôle I can easily better. Have patience and you will see my beautiful young witch Brangaene. She isn't supposed to be ugly and old." "What's this?" he exclaimed, "already a Wagnerian critic?" Then, suddenly, "Hello! You here?" He squeezed her elbow, and she saw standing before her in the next row a vaguely familiar figure, but the dim light puzzled her as to the person. "Hullo!" came the answer. "Alfred, how did you get home the other night? I saw you were in for a wet time and I skipped." He looked inquiringly at the young woman. Stone apologized. "Oh, I fancied that living in the same hotel you had met. Miss Brandès, this is my very good friend, Mr. Invern. Ulick, this is the coming Lilli Lehmann. Miss Brandès is a pupil of Madame Ash, who predicts a big future. Funny, Miss Easter occupied your apartment for a few days." "Yes, Madame Felicé told me. I am very glad you did, Miss--Miss--Brandès. What a picturesque name for the operatic stage? The only Marthe Brandès in Paris may be jealous. Aren't you from the South, from Richmond--Miss Brandès?" He had seated himself and was gazing at her, she had herself well in hand, but her stomach trembled as if sea-sick. She grasped the velvet arm of her stall and tried to keep her voice steady as she replied: