"My voice is good to-night. It is you two that have helped me. You are so young and goodly. And I have a box, the Royal box--they are not using it, you see--if you would like to hear the rest of the opera. Yes? But you must come back and say 'Good night' to me afterwards." Our murmured thanks she would have none of. Supper and a box was little enough. Had she not nearly killed us both an hour ago? "But now I shall sing to you, and you will forgive me. I am in voice to-night. Is it not so, Yvonne?" "But, Madame!" The ecstasy of Yvonne was almost pathetic. The ceremony with which we were installed in the Royal box was worthy of the Regent himself. But then Madame was a very great lady. The lights in the house did not go down for a minute, and I peered over the rim of the balcony to see if I could locate Berry and Co. Suddenly I saw Jill, and Berry next to her. He was staring straight at the Royal box, and his face was a study. He must have seen me come in. Then the lights died, and the curtain went up. The singing of Madame I cannot describe. It was not of this world. And we knew her. We were her friends. She was our hostess. To the house she was the great artiste--a name to whisper, a figurehead to bow before. For us, we were listening to the song of a friend. As she had promised, she sang to us. There was no mistaking it. And the great charm of her welled out in that wonderful voice. All the spirit of melody danced in her notes. When she was singing, there seemed to be none but us in the theatre, and soon no theatre--only us in the world. We two only stepped by her side, walked with her, understood. Actually the girl and I sat spellbound, smiling down as she smiled up from the stage. We knew afterwards that we had been sitting hand-in-hand, as children do. At the end of it all the house rose at her. Never was there such a scene. We rose, too, and stood smiling. Somehow we did not applaud. She just smiled back. "Shall we go?" said I. "Yes." As I turned to the door, I caught sight of four faces looking earnestly up from the stalls. I bowed gravely. An attendant was waiting in the corridor, and we were escorted through the iron door the way we had come. Madame sat in a deep arm-chair in the sitting-room, her hair all about her shoulders. She looked tired. Virtue had gone out of her. "Ah, my dears," she said. My companion kneeled by her side and put her arms round her neck. Then she spoke and kissed her. I do not know what she said. The other held her very close for a moment, then looked at me and smiled. I raised her hand to my lips. "I cannot say anything, Madame." "It is all said. We have spoken together for the last half-hour. Is it not so?" "It is so, Madame." After a little, my companion said we must be going. "He will see me to my hotel," she said.