the price she paid-第60节

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ve　been　making　a　fool　of　myself。　　I'll　not　come　again　until　I　am　all　right。　　Be　patient　with　me。　　I　don't　think　this　will　occur　again。''　　She　first　wrote　‘‘happen。''　　She　scratched　it　out　and　put　‘‘occur''　in　its　place。　　Not　that　Moldini　would　have　noted　the　slip；　simply　that　she　would　not　permit　herself　the　satisfaction　of　the　false　and　self…excusing　‘‘happen。''　　It　had　not　been　a　‘‘happen。''　　It　had　been　a　deliberate　folly；　a　lapse　to　the　Mildred　she　had　buried　the　day　she　sent　Donald　Keith　away。　　When　the　note　was　on　its　way；　she　threw　out　all　her　medicines；　and　broke　the　new　spraying　apparatus　Hicks　had　instructed　her　to　buy。

She　went　back　to　the　Rivi　regime。　　A　week　passed；　and　she　was　little　better。　　Two　weeks；　and　she　began　to　mend。　　But　it　was　six　weeks　before　the　last　traces　of　her　folly　disappeared。　　Moldini　said　not　a　word；　gave　no　sign。　　Once　more　her　life　went　on　in　uneventful；　unbroken　routinediet；　exercise；　singingsinging；　exercise；　dietno　distractions　except　an　occasional　visit　to　the　opera　with　Moldini；　and　she　was　hating　opera　now。　　All　her　enthusiasm　was　gone。　　She　simply　worked　doggedly；　drudged；　slaved。

When　the　days　began　to　grow　warm；　Mrs。　Belloc　said：　‘‘I　suppose　you'll　soon　be　off　to　the　country？　　Are　you　going　to　visit　Mrs。　Brindley？''

‘‘No；''　said　Mildred。

‘‘Then　come　with　me。''

‘‘Thank　you；　but　I　can't　do　it。''

‘‘But　you've　got　to　rest　somewhere。''

‘‘Rest？''　said　Mildred。　　‘‘Why　should　I　rest？''

Mrs。　Belloc　started　to　protest；　then　abruptly　changed。　　‘‘Come　to　think　of　it；　why　should　you？　You're　in　perfect　health；　and　it'll　be　time　enough　to　rest　when　you　‘get　there。'　''

‘‘I'm　tired　through　and　through；''　said　Mildred；　‘‘but　it　isn't　the　kind　of　tired　that　could　be　rested　except　by　throwing　up　this　frightful　nightmare　of　a　career。''

‘‘And　you　can't　do　that。''

‘‘I　won't；''　said　Mildred；　her　lips　compressed　and　her　eyes　narrowed。

She　and　Moldiniand　fat；　funny　little　Mrs。　Moldini　went　to　the　mountains。　　And　she　worked　on。　　She　would　listen　to　none　of　the　suggestions　about　the　dangers　of　keeping　too　steadily　at　it；　about　working　oneself　into　a　state　of　staleness；　about　the　imperative　demands　of　the　artistic　temperament　for　rest；　change；　variety。　　‘‘It　may　be　so；''　she　said　to　Mrs。　Brindley。　‘‘But　I've　gone　mad。　　I　can　no　more　drop　this　routine　thanthan　you　could　take　it　up　and　keep　to　it　for　a　week。''

‘‘I'll　admit　I　couldn't；''　said　Cyrilla。　　‘‘And　Mildred；　you're　making　a　mistake。''

‘‘Then　I'll　have　to　suffer　for　it。　　I　must　do　what　seems　best　to　me。''

‘‘But　I'm　sure　you're　wrong。　　I　never　knew　anyone　to　act　as　you're　acting。　　Everyone　rests　and　freshens　up。''

Mildred　lost　patience；　almost　lost　her　temper。　‘‘You're　trying　to　tempt　me　to　ruin　myself；''　she　said。　‘‘Please　stop　it。　　You　say　you　never　knew　anyone　to　do　as　I'm　doing。　　Very　well。　　But　how　many　girls　have　you　known　who　have　succeeded？''

Cyrilla　hesitatingly　confessed　that　she　had　known　none。

‘‘Yet　you've　known　scores　who've　tried。''

‘‘But　they　didn't　fail　because　they　didn't　work　enough。　Many　of　them　worked　too　much。''

Mildred　laughed。　　‘‘How　do　you　know　why　they　failed？''　said　she。　　‘‘You　haven't　thought　about　it　as　I　have。　　You　haven't　LIVED　it。　　Cyrilla；　I　served　my　apprenticeship　at　listening　to　nonsense　about　careers。　I　want　to　have　nothing　to　do　with　inspiration；　and　artistic　temperament；　and　spontaneous　genius；　and　all　the　rest　of　the　lies。　　Moldini　and　I　know　what　we　are　about。　　So　I'm　living　as　those　who　have　succeeded　lived　and　not　as　those　who　have　failed。''

Cyrilla　was　silenced；　but　not　convinced。　　The　amazing　improvement　in　Mildred's　health；　the　splendid　slim　strength　and　suppleness　of　her　body；　the　new　and　stable　glories　of　her　voiceall　these　she　knew　about；　but　they　did　not　convince　her。　　She　believed　in　work；　in　hard　work；　but　to　her　work　meant　the　music　itself。　　She　felt　that　the　Rivi　system　and　the　dirty；　obscure　little　Moldini　between　them　were　destroying　Mildred　by　destroying　all　‘‘temperament''　in　her。

It　was　the　old；　old　criticism　of　talent　upon　genius。　Genius　has　always　won　in　its　own　time　and　generation　all　the　world　except　talent。　　To　talent　contemporaneous　genius；　genius　seen　at　its　patient；　plodding　toil；　seems　coarse　and　obvious　and　lacking　altogether　in　inspiration。　　Talent　cannot　comprehend　that　creation　is　necessarily　in　travail　and　in　all　manner　of　unloveliness。

Mildred　toiled　on　like　a　slave　under　the　lash；　and　Moldini　and　the　Rivi　system　were　her　twin　relentless　drivers。　　She　learned　to　rule　herself　with　an　iron　hand。　She　discovered　the　full　measure　of　her　own　deficiencies；　and　she　determined　to　make　herself　a　competent　lyric　soprano；　perhaps　something　of　a　dramatic　soprano。　She　dismissed　from　her　mind　all　the　‘‘high''　thoughts；　all　the　dreams　wherewith　the　little　people；　even　the　little　people　who　achieve　a　certain　success；　beguile　the　tedium　of　their　journey　along　the　hard　road。　　She　was　not　working　to　‘‘interpret　the　thought　of　the　great　master''　or　to　‘‘advance　the　singing　art　yet　higher''　or

even　to　win　fame　and　applause。　　She　had　one　object　to　earn　her　living　on　the　grand　opera　stage；　and　to　earn　it　as　a　prima　donna　because　that　meant　the　best　living。　　She　frankly　told　Cyrilla　that　this　was　her　object；　when　Cyrilla　forced　her　one　day　to　talk　about　her　aims。　　Cyrilla　looked　pained；　broke　a　melancholy　silence　to　say：

‘‘I　know　you　don't　mean　that。　　You　are　too　intelligent。　　You　sing　too　well。''

‘‘Yes；　I　mean　just　that；''　said　Mildred。　　‘‘A　living。''

‘‘At　any　rate；　don't　say　it。　　You　give　such　a　false　impression。''

‘‘To　whom？　　Not　to　Crossley；　and　not　to　Moldini；　and　why　should　I　care　what　any　others　think？　　They　are　not　paying　my　expenses。　　And　regardless　of　what　they　think　now；　they'll　be　at　my　feet　if　I　succeed；　and　they'll　put　me　under　theirs　if　I　don't。''

‘‘How　hard　you　have　grown；''　cried　Cyrilla。

‘‘How　sensible；　you　mean。　　I've　merely　stopped　being　a　self…deceiver　and　a　sentimentalist。''

‘‘Believe　me；　my　dear；　you　are　sacrificing　your　character　to　your　ambition。''

‘‘I　never　had　any　real　character　until　ambition　came；''　replied　Mildred。　　‘‘The　soft；　vacillating；　sweet　and　weak　thing　I　used　to　have　wasn't　character。''

‘‘But；　dear；　you　can't　think　it　superior　character　to　center　one's　whole　life　about　a　sordid　ambition。''

‘‘Sordid？''

‘‘Merely　to　make　a　living。''

Mildred　laughed　merrily　and　mockingly。　　‘‘You　call　that　sordid？　　Then　for　heaven's　sake　what　is　high？　You　had　left　you　money　enough　to　live　on；　if　you　have　to。　　No　one　left　me　an　income。　　So；　I'm　fighting　for　independenceand　that　means　for　self…respect。　　Is　self…respect　sordid；　Cyrilla！''

And　then　Cyrilla　understoodin　part；　not　altogether。　She　lived　in　the　ordinary　environment　of　flap…　doodle　and　sweet　hypocrisy　and　sentimentality；　and　none　such　can　more　than　vaguely　glimpse　the　realities。

Toward　the　end　of　the　summer　Moldini　said：

‘‘It's　over。　　You　have　won。''

Mildred　looked　at　him　in　puzzled　surprise。

‘‘You　have　learned　it　all。　　You　will　succeed。　　The　rest　is　detail。''

‘‘But　I've　learned　nothing　as　yet；''　protested　she。

‘‘You　have　learned　to　teach　yourself；''　replied　the　Italian。　　‘‘You　at　last　can　hear　yourself　sing；　and　you　know　when　you　sing　right　and　when　you　sing　wrong；　and　you　know　how　to　sing　right。　　The　rest　is　easy。　Ah；　my　dear　Miss　Gower；　you　will　work　NOW！''

Mildred　did　not　understand。　　She　was　even　daunted　by　that　‘‘You　will　work　NOW！''　　She　had　been　thinking　that　to　work　harder　was　impossible。　　What　did　he　expect　of　her？　　Something　she　feared　she　could　not　realize。　But　soon　she　understoodwhen　he　gave　her　songs；　then　began　to　teach　her　a　role；　the　part　of　Madame　Butterfly　herself。　　‘‘I　can　help　you　only　a　little　there；''　he　said。　　‘‘You　will　have　to　go　to　my　friend　Ferreri　for　roles。　　But　we　can　make　a　beginning。''

She　had　indeed　won。　　She　had　passed　from　the　stage　where　a　career　is　all　drudgerythe　stage　through　which　only　the　strong　can　pass　without　giving　up　and　accepting　failure　or　small　success。　　She　had　passed　to　the　stage　where　there　is　added　pleasure　to　the　drudgery；　for；　the　drudgery　never　ceases。　　And　what　was　the　pleasure？　　Why；　more　workalways　workbringing　into　use　not　merely　the　routine　parts　of　the　mind；　but　also　the　imaginative　and　creative　faculties。　　She　had　learned　her　tradenot　well　enough；　for　no　superior　man　or　woman　ever　feels　that　he　or　she　knows　the　trade　well　enoughbut　well　enough　to　begin　to　use　it。

Said　Moldini：　　‘‘When　the　great　one；　who　has　achieved　and　arrived；　is　asked　for　advice　by　the　sweet；　enthusiastic　young　beginner；　what　is　the　answer？　Always　the　same：　　‘My　dear　child；　don't！　　Go　back　home；　and　marry　and　have　babies。'　　You　know　why　now？''

And　Mildred；　looking　back　over　the　dreary　drudgery　that　had　been；　and　looking　forward　to　the　drudgery　yet　to　come；　dreary　enough　for　all　the　prospects　of　a　few　flowers　and　a　little　sunMildred　said：　　‘‘Indeed　I　do；　maestro。''

‘‘They　think　it　means　what　you　Americans　call　moralsas　if　that　were　all　of　morality！　　But　it　doesn't　mean　morals；　not　at　all。　　Sex　and　the　game　of　sex　is　all　through　life　everywherein　the　home　no　less　than　in　the　theater。　　In　town　and　country；　indoors　and　out；　sunlight；　moonlight；　and　rainalways　it　goes　on。　And　t