The meeting of true lovers' eyesSeems wrought of chance; and yetPerhaps the same grim law abidesTherein as when the dead one liesLow in the grave, and memory chides,And with hot tears love's lids are wet.
She was in the box; he was far above in the gallery.
He looked down and across and saw her sitting there fair as a flower androbed like a royal courtesan in flame and snow.
Like a red torch flamed the ruby in her hair. Her shoulders were framedin her cloak, white as marble warmed with firelight. Her gloved handsheld an opera glass which also glowed with flashing light.
His face grew dark and stern. He looked down at his poor coat and aroundat the motley gallery which reeked with the smell of tobacco and liquor.
Students were there--poor like himself, but with great music-loving,hungry, ambitious souls. Men and women of refinement and indomitablewill sat side by side with drunken loafers who had chanced to stumble upthe stairway.
His eyes went back to her. So sweet and dainty was every thread on herfair body. No smell of toil, nor touch of care, nor mark of weariness.Her flesh was ivory, her eyes were jewels, her heart was as clean andsweet as her eyes. She was perfectly clothed, protected, at ease.
No, not at ease. She seemed restless. Again and again she swept herglass around the lower balcony.
The man in the gallery knew she was looking for him, and he took abitter delight in the distance between them. He waited, calm as a lionin his power.
The man at her elbow talks on. She does not hear. She is stilllooking--a little swifter, a little more anxiously--her red lips readyto droop in disappointment.
The noise of feet, of falling seats, continues. Boys call shrilly.Ushers dart hastily to and fro. The soft laughter and hum of talk comeup from below.
She has reached the second balcony. She sweeps it hurriedly. Hercompanion raises his eyes to the same balcony and laughs as he speaks.She colors a little, but smiles as she lifts her eyes to the thirdbalcony.
Suddenly the glass stops. The color surges up her neck, splashing hercheeks with red. Her breath stops also for a moment, then returns quickand strong.
Her smile settles into a curious contraction that is almost painful tosee. His unsmiling eyes are looking somberly, sternly, accusingly intohers. They are charged with all the bitterness and hate and disappointedambition which social injustice and inequality had wrought into hissoul.
She shivered and dropped her glass. Shivered and drew her fleecy, pinkand pale-blue cloak closer about her bare neck.
Her face grew timid, almost appealing, as she turned it upward towardhim like a flower, to be kissed across the height that divided him fromher.
His heart swelled with exultation. His face softened. From the height ofhis intellectual pride he bent his head and sent a winged caressfluttering down upon that flowerlike face.
And then the stealing harmony of the violins began, gliding like mistabove the shuddering, tumultuous, obscure thunder of the drums, and theman's soul swept across that sea of song with the heart of a lion andthe wings of an eagle.