Charmian was silent for a minute.
"Do you mean that you think I only care to teach, that I--that I am not much of a pupil?" she said at length.
"Perhaps that is putting it too strongly. But I believe your husband had a great deal to give."
"Claude! Do you? But yes, of course--Susan!" Charmian"s voice changed, became almost sharply interrogative. "Do you mean that Claude could teach me more than I could ever teach him?"
"It is impossible for me to be sure of that."
"Perhaps. But, tell me, do you think it is so?"
"I am inclined to."
Charmian felt as if she flushed. She was conscious of a stir of something that was like anger within her. It hurt her very much to think that perhaps Susan put Claude higher than her. But she controlled the expression of what she felt, and only said, perhaps a little coldly:
"It ought to be so. He is so much cleverer than I am."
"I don"t think I mean that. It isn"t always cleverness we learn from."
"Goodness then!"
Charmian forced herself to smile.
"Do you think me far below Claude from the moral point of view?" she added, with an attempt at laughing lightness.
"It isn"t that either. But I think he has let out an anchor which reaches bottom, though perhaps at present he isn"t aware of it. And I"m not sure that you ever have. By the way, I"ve a message from Adelaide for you."
"Yes?"
"She wants to know how your rehearsals are going."
"Wonderfully well, as I said."
Charmain spoke almost gravely. Her exultant enthusiasm had died away for the moment.
"And, if it is allowed, she would like to go to one. Can she?"
Charmian hesitated. But the strong desire for Mrs. Shiffney"s verdict overcame a certain suddenly born reluctance of which she was aware, and she said:
"I should think so. Why not? Even a spy cannot destroy the merit of the enemy"s work by wishing."
Susan said nothing to this.
"You must come with her if she does come," Charmian added.
She was still feeling hurt. She had looked upon Susan as her very special friend. She had let Susan see into her heart. And now she realized that Susan had criticized that heart. At that moment Charmian was too unreasonable to remember that criticism is often an inevitable movement of the mind which does not touch the soul to change it. Her attempt at cordiality was, therefore, forced.
"I don"t know whether she will want me," said Susan. "But at any rate I shall be there for the first night."
"Ah--the first night!" said Charmian.
Again she changed. With the thought of the coming epoch in her life and Claude"s her vexation died.
"It"s coming so near!" she said. "There are moments when I want to rush toward it, and others when I wish it were far away. It"s terrible when so much hangs on one night, just three or four hours of time. One does need courage in art. But Claude has found it. Yes, Susan, you are right.
Claude is finer than I am. He is beginning to dominate me here, as he never dominated me before. If he triumphs--and he will, he shall triumph!--I believe I shall be quite at his feet."
She laughed, but tears were not far from her eyes. This period she was pa.s.sing through in New York was tearing at her nerves with teeth and claws although she scarcely knew it.
Susan, who had seen clearly the hurt she had inflicted, moved, came nearer to Charmian, and gently took one of her hands.
"My dear," she said. "Does it matter so much which it is?"
"Matter! Of course it does. Everything hangs upon it--for us, I mean, of course. We have given up everything for the opera, altered our lives. It is to be the beginning of everything for us."
Susan looked steadily at Charmian with her ugly, beautiful eyes.
"Perhaps it might be that in either case," she said. "Dear Charmian, I think preaching is rather odious. I hope I don"t often step into the pulpit. But we"ve talked of many things, of things I care for and believe in. May I tell you something I think with the whole of my mind, and even more than that as it seems to me?"
"Yes. Yes, Susan!"
"I think the success or failure only matters really as it affects character, and the relation existing between your soul and your husband"s. The rest scarcely counts, I think. And so, if I were to pray about such a thing as this opera, pray with the impulse of a friend who really does care for you, I should pray that your two souls might have what they need, what they must be asking for, whether that is a great success, or a great failure."
The door opened and Claude came in on the two women.
"Did I hear the word failure?" he said, smiling, as he went up to Susan and took her hand. "Charmian, I wonder you allow it to be spoken in our sitting-room."
"I--I didn"t--we weren"t," she almost stammered. But quickly recovering herself, she said:
"Susan has come with a message from Adelaide Shiffney."
"You mean about being let in at a rehearsal?"
"Yes," said Susan.
"I"ve just been with Mrs. Shiffney. She called at the theater after you had gone, Charmian. I drove to the Ritz with her and went in."
Charmian looked narrowly at her husband.
"Then of course she spoke about the rehearsal?"
"Yes. Madame Sennier dropped in upon us. What do you think of that?"
Charmian thought that his face and manner were strangely hard.
"Madame Sennier! And did you stay, did you--"
"Of course. I thanked her for giving the opera such a lift with her slanders about the libretto. I tackled her. It was the greatest fun. I only wish Crayford had been there to hear me."