Diana stood quite still, almost frightened by the uproar, until Max
touched her arm and escorted her off the platform.
In the artistes' room every one crowded round her pouring out
congratulations. Baroni seized both her hands and kissed them; then he
kissed her cheek, the tears in his eyes. And all the time came the
thunder of applause from the auditorium, beating up in steady, rhythmic
waves of sound.
"Go!--Go back, my child, and bow." Baroni impelled her gently towards
the door. "_Gran Dio_! What a success! . . . What a voice of heaven!"
Rather nervously, Diana mounted the platform once more, stepping
forward a little shyly; her cheeks were flushed, and her wonderful eyes
shone like grey stars. A fillet of pale green leaves bound her
smoke-black hair, and the slender, girlish figure in its sea-green
gown, touched here and there with gold embroidery, reminded one of
spring, and the young green and gold of daffodils.
Instantly the applause redoubled. People were surging forward towards
the platform, pressing round an unfortunate usher who was endeavouring
to hand up a sheaf of roses to the singer. Diana bowed, and bowed
again. Then she stooped and accepted the roses, and a fresh burst of
clapping ensued. A wreath of laurel, and a huge bunch of white
heather, for luck, followed the sheaf of roses, and finally, her arms
full of flowers, smiling, bowing still, she escaped from the platform.
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