On the following day Margaret received a note from Schreiermeyer
informing her in the briefest terms and in doubtful French that he had
concluded the arrangements for her to make her début in the part of
Marguerite, in a Belgian city, in exactly a month, and requiring that
she should attend the next rehearsal of Faust at the Opéra in Paris,
where Faust is almost a perpetual performance and yet seems to need
rehearsing from time to time.
She showed the letter to Mrs. Rushmore, who sighed wearily after
reading it, and said nothing. But there was a little more colour in
Margaret's cheek, and her eyes sparkled at the prospect of making a
beginning at last. Mrs. Rushmore took up her newspaper again with an
air of sorrowful disapproval, but presently she started uncomfortably
and looked at Margaret.
'Oh!' she exclaimed, and sighed once more.
'What is it?' asked the young girl.
'It must be true, for it's in the Herald.' 'What?'
Mrs. Rushmore read the following paragraph:-
We hear on the best authority that a new star is about to dazzle
the operatic stage. Monsieur Schreiermeyer has announced to a
select circle of friends that it will be visible in the theatrical
heaven on the night of June 21, in the character of Marguerite and
in the person of a surprisingly beautiful young Spanish soprano,
the Señorita Margarita da Cordova, whose romantic story as daughter
to a contrabandista of Andalusia and granddaughter to the
celebrated bullfighter Ramon and---'Oh, my dear! This is too shameful! I told you so!' Mrs. Rushmore's elderly cheeks were positively scarlet as she stared at
the print. Margaret observed the unwonted phenomenon with surprise.
'I don't see anything so appallingly improper in that,' she observed.
'You don't see! No, my child, you don't! I trust you never may. Indeed
if I can prevent it, you never shall. Disgusting! Vile!'
And the good lady read the rest of the paragraph to herself, holding up
the paper so as to hide her modest blushes.
'My dear, what a story!' she cried at last. 'It positively makes me
creep!' 'This is very tantalising,' said Margaret. 'I suppose it has to do with
my imaginary ancestry in Andalusia.'
'I should think it had! Where do they get such things, I wonder? A
bishop, my dear--oh no, really! it would make a pirate blush! Can you
tell me what good this kind of thing can do?' 'Advertisement,' Margaret answered coolly. 'It's intended to excite
interest in me before I appear, you know. Don't they do it in America?' 'Never!' cried Mrs. Rushmore with solemn emphasis. 'Apart from its
being all a perfectly gratuitous falsehood.' 'Gratuitous? Perhaps Schreiermeyer paid to have it put in.' 'Then I never wish to see him, Margaret, never! Do you understand! I
think I shall bring an action against him. At all events I shall take
legal advice. This cannot be allowed to go uncontradicted. If I were
you, I would sit down and write to the paper this very minute, and tell
the editor that you are a respectable English girl. You are, I'm sure!' 'I hope so! But what has respectability to do with art?' 'A great deal, my dear,' answered Mrs. Rushmore wisely. 'You may say
what you like, there is a vast difference between being respectable and
disreputable--perfectly vast! It's of no use to deny it, because you
can't.' 'Nobody can.' 'There now, I told you so! I must say, child, you are getting some very
strange ideas from your new acquaintances. If these are the principles
you mean to adopt, I am sorry for you, very sorry!' Margaret did not seem very sorry for herself, however, for she went off
at this point, singing the 'jewel song' in Faust at the top of her
voice, and wishing with all her heart that she were already behind the
footlights with the orchestra at her feet.