After their luncheon Easter went to Ash's for a lesson; also to pour into the sympathetic ear of Madame her impressions of the rehearsal; like the egotist she was, these personal impressions were intrinsically of more importance to her than the music or the singing. Ulick had left her, promising himself to see her at dinner that evening; he didn't propose to let Stone altogether monopolize her; but he couldn't be jealous of anybody much less of little Alfred Stone. It was a temperamental defect and he recognized it. Never to be jealous implied either supreme self-satisfaction or blunt indifference--which is worse than the rankest egotism. As he rode down town on the Third Avenue "L" to the office of the "Clarion," he recalled the gracious reception of Easter by the great Isolde; Lilli had been unusually amiable. Was it because Paul Godard was in her dressing-room? Ulick detested Paul, though calmly. That young millionaire sprig, who dabbled in music as he did in stocks and society, went everywhere. At Baireuth Ulick had dodged his company. Paul was so complacently conscious of himself that he irritated Ulick. And his dilettante attitude toward life and the Seven Arts was intolerable to Invern, who, notwithstanding his philosophy of laissez-faire, was a sincere student, one who despised the slipshod method and smattering of knowledge, the vice of the other young man. Godard never noticed Ulick's reserved manner. He bubbled over when he met the critic as he bubbled over Lilli's Isolde, as he bubbled over Otero's dancing at Koster and Bial's. Paul admired all manifestations à la mode. His judgments were Mr. Everyman's. In the same breath he could praise Degas and Meissonier, Meyerbeer and Debussy. The absence of discriminating values in his conversation would send Ulick into a cold rage. He didn't like Paul's openly expressed admiration of Easter. Madame Lehmann had questioned her as to her plans, and, unasked, Paul had made some suggestions. "Now, there's Trabadello in Paris. I fancy he is the man for you. Or Mathilde Marchesi." What infernal impudence, thought Ulick. A stranger butting in like that. Lehmann, hearing the name of Frida Ash, approved, adding, "But my dear young lady, you musn't stay in New York too long. Your formative years should be spent in Europe, in Paris, in Berlin, in Milan. Some day you should try to sing at Baireuth if only the humblest rôles. You know that I was one of the Rhine-Daughters there at the first performance of the Ring in 1876. But if you go to Germany next Summer come to see me. Perhaps--if your voice--you have an excellent stage presence--who knows?" Paul Godard became ecstatic. "Ah, who knows?" he echoed like a parrot--so Ulick called him; "lucky Miss Brandès--Oh, I wonder if you are any relative of the divine Marthe--" "There he goes again with that damfool question," said Ulick to himself. "She ought to change her name." As they went away Ulick overheard Lilli say: "Yes, very effective. Cold