It would be
impossible--out of the question. You haven't realised all it would
entail. After being a famous singer--to become merely a private
gentlewoman--a lady of a little unimportant Court! The very idea is
absurd. Always you would miss the splendour of your life, the triumphs,
the being feted and made much of--everything that your singing has
brought you. It would be inevitable. And I couldn't endure to see the
regret growing in your eyes day by day. Oh, my dear, don't think I don't
realise the generosity of the thought--and bless you for it a thousand
times! But I won't let you pay with the rest of your life for a
heaven-kind impulse of the moment."
His words fell on Diana's consciousness, each one weighted with a world
of significance, for she knew, even as she listened, that he spoke but
the bare truth.
Very quietly she moved away from him and stood by the chimney-piece,
staring down into the grate where the embers lay dying. It seemed to
typify what her life would be, shorn of the glamour with which her
glorious voice had decked it. It would be as though one had plucked out
the glowing heart of a fire, leaving only ashes--dead ashes of
remembrance.
And in exchange for the joyous freedom of Bohemia, the happy brotherhood
of artistes, there would be the deadly, daily ceremonial of a court, the
petty jealousies and intrigues of a palace!
Very clearly Diana saw what the choice involved, and with that clear
vision came the realisation that here was a sacrifice which she, who had
so profaned love's temple, could yet make at the foot of the altar.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330