The Primadonna | Page 3

was a great sigh of relief, for it was not possible to be
frightened when a fearless woman was singing so marvellously.
Then, still in the dark, some of the musicians struck in and supported
her, and others followed, till the whole body of harmony was complete;
and just as she was at the wildest trills, at the very passage during
which the crash had come, the lights went up all at once; and there
stood Cordova in white and lace, with her eyes half shut and shaking
her outstretched hands as she always made them shake in the mad
scene; and the stage was just as it had been before the accident, except
that Schreiermeyer was standing near the singer in evening dress with a
perfectly new and shiny high hat on the back of his head, and his mouth
wide open.
The people were half hysterical from the past danger, and when they
saw, and realised, they did not wait for the end of the air, but sent up
such a shout of applause as had never been heard in the Opera before
and may not be heard there again.
Instinctively the Primadonna sang the last bars, though no one heard
her in the din, unless it was Schreiermeyer, who stood near her. When
she had finished at last he ran up to her and threw both his arms round
her in a paroxysm of gratitude, regardless of her powder and chalk,
which came off upon his coat and yellow beard in patches of white as
he kissed her on both cheeks, calling her by every endearing name that
occurred to his polyglot memory, from Sweetheart in English to Little
Cabbage in French, till Cordova laughed and pushed him away, and
made a tremendous courtesy to the audience.

Just then a man in a blue jacket and gilt buttons entered from the left of
the stage and whispered a few words into Schreiermeyer's ear. The
manager looked grave at once, nodded and came forward to the
prompter's box. The man had brought news of the accident, he said; a
quantity of dynamite which was to have been used in subterranean
blasting had exploded and had done great damage, no one yet knew
how great. It was probable that many persons had been killed.
But for this news, Cordova would have had one of those ovations
which rarely fall to the lot of any but famous singers, for there was not
a man or woman in the theatre who had not felt that she had averted a
catastrophe and saved scores of lives. As it was, several women had
been slightly hurt and at least fifty had fainted. Every one was anxious
to help them now, most of all the very people who had hurt them.
But the news of an accident in the city emptied the house in a few
minutes; even now that the lights were up the anxiety to get out to the
street and to know more of the truth was great enough to be dangerous,
and the strong crowd heaved and surged again and pushed through the
many doors with little thought for the weak or for any who had been
injured in the first panic.
But in the meantime Cordova had reached her dressing-room,
supported by the enthusiastic Schreiermeyer on one side, and by the
equally enthusiastic tenor on the other, while the singular family party
assembled in the last act of Lucia di Lammermoor brought up the rear
with many expressions of admiration and sympathy.
As a matter of fact the Primadonna needed neither sympathy nor
support, and that sort of admiration was not of the kind that most
delighted her. She did not believe that she had done anything heroic,
and did not feel at all inclined to cry.
'You saved the whole audience!' cried Signor Pompeo Stromboli, the
great Italian tenor, who presented an amazing appearance in his
Highland dress. 'Four thousand seven hundred and fifty-three people
owe you their lives at this moment! Every one of them would have
been dead but for your superb coolness! Ah, you are indeed a great

woman!'
Schreiermeyer's business ear had caught the figures. As they walked,
each with an arm through one of the Primadonna's, he leaned back and
spoke to Stromboli behind her head.
'How the devil do you know what the house was?' he asked sharply.
'I always know,' answered the Italian in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone.
'My dresser finds out from the box-office. I never take the C sharp if
there are less than three thousand.'
'I'll stop that!' growled Schreiermeyer.
'As you please!' Stromboli shrugged his massive shoulders. 'C sharp is
not in the engagement!'
'It shall be in the next! I won't sign without it!'
'I won't sign at