There is one moment in “The Darling of the Gods” when suspense is wrought to a point of intense tension, and when the inherent, essential faculty of an actor, the power to reveal almost in a flash the feeling of the heart and the working of the mind, is imperatively required. It is when _Kara_, wounded, exhausted, desperate, has sought refuge in the dwelling of the _Princess Yo-San_ and, by her, has been succored and concealed. _Migaku_, _the Shadow_, a spy of the terrible _War Minister_, _Zakkuri_, has traced him to that refuge, but a devoted guardian of _Yo-San_, _Inu_, a Corean giant, has detected the presence of the spy, has seized and slain him, and has hidden the body in a stream. _Zakkuri_ and the father of _Yo-San_ follow the spy, and come to the dwelling of _Yo-San_. _Zakkuri_ wishes that it be searched, but he agrees to accept her oath, if she will give it, that she knows nothing of the whereabouts of _Kara_. The _Princess_ is summoned and, denying the presence of _Kara_, is required by her father to swear that she has spoken the truth. Words can faintly indicate the beauty of the picture and action which follow, as the girl seeks to protect her lover. The time is night. The scene is a strange, fantastic, fairy-like garden of old Japan, a bower of flowers with twining wistaria wreathing the trees and houses, and, far, far off, visible in the silver moonlight, a great snow-capped volcano, the peak of which is touched with ruddy light. The father and the dreaded _Minister of War_ stand before the door. Miss Bates, as _Yo-San_, stood a little above them, dressed in soft, flowing white garments, open at the throat, her black hair loose about her face and shoulders, her beautiful dark eyes suffused with a fascinating expression of innocence, tranquillity, and tenderness. Without a moment of hesitation, on being required to take the most solemn of oaths, she, with sweetly reverential dignity, raised a bowl of burning incense and, holding it before her, spoke, in a voice of perfect music: “Before Shaka, God of Life and Death,--to whom my word goes up on this incense,--I swear, hanging my life on the answer, I have not seen this Kara!” Then, as the discomfited searchers withdrew, she stood a moment, in the soft light streaming upon her from within the house, and, gazing after them, added, looking upward, “It is better to lie a little than to be unhappy much!” If she had done nothing else,--though the remainder of her professional life should be barren,--that single moment stamped her as a great actress.