She walked down the passage and he followed her. She was superb, she was indeed, with her head up, that neck, those hands, those flashing eyes. He had never seen anyone so fine. She ought always to be enraged. That instant decided him. She was the woman for a man to have for his own, someone who could look like someone at the head of your table, someone with the right blood in her veins, someone.... "I could _beat_ myself," he said again. "How dared you----" she broke out at last. They were, by good luck, alone in the passage. "How could you? What do you come for if you care nothing for music at all? If you can hear a voice like that and then talk about your own silly little affairs.... And the selfishness of it! Of course you think of nobody but yourself!" "Upon my word, Miss Beaminster!" "No, I've no patience with you. Go to your musical comedy if you like, but leave music like this for people who can appreciate it!" Oh! she was superb! Entirely superb! She ought to be like this every day of her life! To think that he should have the chance of winning such a prize! Nevertheless she would not speak to him again and they went back to the box. She would not speak to Lady Carloes nor to her uncle. Then as the loveliest music in all opera flooded the building her anger began to melt. He had looked so charmingly repentant and, after all, the _Meistersinger_ was long for anyone who did not really care for music--and then they all did talk. It was only in the gallery that one found the proper reverence. Her anger cooled and then descended upon her the quintet, and she was once again swept, in her cage, to the stars. Now she and all live things seemed to be opening their hearts together to God--no shame now to speak of one's deepest and most sacred thoughts. No fear now of God nor the Archangels nor all the long spaces of Immortality. The cage had ascended to the highest of all the Heavens, and there, for a moment, one might stand, worshipping, with bowed head. The quintet ceased and Rachel felt that she could never be angry with anyone again. She wished to tell him so. At last, the revels were over, the "Prieslied" had won its praises, Sachs had been acclaimed by his world, and they were all in the lobby, waiting for carriages, talking, laughing, hurrying to the restaurants. Her face was lighted now with happiness. She touched his arm. "I didn't mean to be angry--like that. It was silly and rude of me. Forgive me, please----" He turned, stuttering. "Forgive you!" He took her hand--"I ought to have been shot--Yes, I'll never forgive myself. You--you----" And then he could say no more, but suddenly, raising his hat, bolted away. As the door swung behind him Lady Carloes turned a perplexed face-- "Why! he said good night! And now I shall never find----" But Lord John appeared just then and all was well.