A gay throng in evening dress was
crowding into the opera. The huge placard announced, "Norma--
Mlle. Lenormand--Royal Opera Troupe." How he would have liked to
hear it, with Lenormand in the title role. He laughed as he
recalled the episodes in Vienna which were associated with this
queen of song. He waved his hand as the opera house sank in the
distance. "Au revoir, Celeste, ma charmante; adieu." By and by
he reached the deserted part of the city, and in less than a
quarter of an hour branched off into the broad road bordering
the lake. The horse quickened his gait as he felt the stone of
the streets no longer beneath his feet, which now fell with
muffled rhythm on the sound earth. Maurice shared with him the
delight of the open country, and began to talk to the animal.
"A fine night, eh, old boy? I've ridden many backs, but none
easier than yours. This air is what gives the blood its color.
Too bad; you ought not to belong to Madame. She will never think
as much of you as I should."
The city was falling away behind, and a yellow vapor rose over
it. The lake tumbled in moonshine. Maurice took to dreaming
again--hope and a thousand stars, love and a thousand dreams.
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