Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1896-12-28
A FORTUNATE FIASCO

ingly nervous. All night he lay awake
with throbbing brain and palpitating
heart, and he would have broken down en-
tirely but for the one idea which pervaded
and sustained his being. The next day his
fate would be decided On the morrow he
would know whether the world recognized
in him musician worthy to enter it's fore
most ranks of composers. On the morrow,
moreover, he would learn the secret of
Dorienne's heart-Dorienne, whose love
seemed to him a finer gift than all the
adulation that fame could bring
And now the morrow had dawned, Dori-
enne's answer had come, and although he
never quite remembered how he arrived
there, he was already in his seat at the
conductors desk waiting for the signal to
commence the opera upon which he had
spent many weary months Of jealous brain
toll.
1t was for Dorienne he had labored all
those months, to lay at her feet name
ringing with the peoples praises, posi-
tion worthy Of her and of the brilliant
loneliness which had made her queen ere
she had passed her nineteenth year.
Then, unable to wait, and fearing that
ming her, he had written, entreating her
to put his doubts at an end and at once
make him either the happiest or the most
miserable man in the world
The reply had come as he was leaving
his chambers for the theater on the even
ing of the first performance of his opera,
"The Land of Venus" and though it
could not be termed a refusal it was about
as unsatisfactory as anything but an ac-
ceptance could be:
Let things be as they are. We have been so
content. Why consider a new state just yet
awhiIep To tell you the truth, Ferdinand,
scarcely know my own mind. Give me time
to consider this all important question. You
would not wish me to decide hastily. Only
few weeks, that is all ask, and in the mean
time let us be the same good friends we have
always BEEN In any case, please believe that
I am very sensible of the honor you have done
me in asking me to become your wife. Yours
ever sincerely, DoRIENNE.
P. ST. shall be at the opera with mamma
tonight, and of course we both wish for your
success.
Ferdinand Lingard thought of this let
ter as he sat waiting in the orchestra. Its
bold, characteristic handwriting stood out
clearly before his vision, its calm, cold
words swan across his eyes. II scarcely
know my own mind. Give me time.
*** Let us be the same good friends we
have always been. Only a few
weeks'-
"a few weeksp' An eternity Oh,
for patience, for forbearance! No, more
than either of these, he wanted success
success and fame, and name. Dorienne
would not hesitate then.
"Her own mindP Was she waiting for
this evenings result? Was she afraid to
plight her troth in case there should be
f1asco tonight? The thought gave the
young man infinite pain, and he tried to
Danish it from his mind
Then sudden anger against her world
illness filled him. He turned his head
slightly to see if she had arrived.
Yes, there she was, in a side box on the
grand tier, her mother sitting beside her,
and some man whom he did not know
standing behind gazing down at him with
his opera glass to his eyes.
Ferdinand grew yet more angry as he
noted the expression Of absolute content
that lay on Dorienne's charming young
face "a face which, in it's shadowless
beauty, had always reminded him of a
budding rose Of perfect, palest pink. How
could she be so Indifferent when with him
so much was at stalker Was it not veri-
table sign that her inmost feelings had
been untouched by his appealp
Yet, If he could only have known how
under that mask Of carelessness the heart
Of Dorienne was beating almost to suffoca-
ton in her anxiety for her lovers success,
and that the flush on her cheeks was
wholly due to suppressed excitement,
Ferdinand would have been less trou-
bled man at this moment.
AS 1t was, he was conscious solely of
vague sense of apprehension, and the nerv-
BUSINESS he felt nearly overwhelmed him.
The drawbacks to a favorable interpre-
tation Of the young composers work were
numerous. The mast he had been able to
do was to obtain for it a first hearing dur
ing an autumn season at the National
Opera House, when none but second rate
artists were taking part In the perform
ances, and he knew only too we'll that
unless the prima donna who was singing
for him improved vastly upon the final re-
hearsal most of his music would fail to be
understood by the critical public.
His fears redoubled when at last-the
prelude being over and the curtain drawn
up--his diva stepped forward and sang her
opening phrases distinctly out of tune and
with all the errors against which he had
taken such pains to warn her.
The first act was received with good |
tempered spirit by the crowded house, but
the second with more liberation. Ferdi-
nand sat conducting as in a dream, his
face, usually full Of youthful brightness,
now ashen pale and drawn with anxiety.
Everything from beginning to end |
seemed against him. The principals, one
and all, were out Of voice, the chorus went |
wrong, the orchestra played In a half I
hearted manner that was sufficiently [
CANNING In itself, and his music, robbed