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On a January evening of the early seventies, Christine Nilsson was singing in Faust at the Acadeh there was already talk of the erection, in remote metropolitan distances "above the Forties," of a new Opera House which should coreat European capitals, the world of fashion was still content to reasseold boxes of the sociable old Acade s out the "new people" who to dread and yet be drawn to; and the senti to it for its historic associations, and the musical for its excellent acoustics, always so proble of music

It was Madame Nilsson's first appearance that winter, and what the daily press had already learned to describe as "an exceptionally brilliant audience" had gathered to hear her, transported through the slippery, snowy streets in private broughams, in the spacious family landau, or in the humbler but more convenient "Brown coupe"

To come to the Opera in a Brown coupe was ale; and departure by the sa one (with a playful allusion to democratic principles) to scramble into the first Brown conveyance in the line, instead of waiting till the cold-and-gin congested nose of one's own coachleareat livery-stableman's most masterly intuitions to have discovered that Aet away froet to it

When Newland Archer opened the door at the back of the club box the curtain had just gone up on the garden scene There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier, for he had dined at seven, alone with his ar in the Gothic library with glazed black-walnut bookcases and finial-topped chairs which was the only roo But, in the first place, New York was a metropolis, and perfectly aware that in " to arrive early at the opera; and as or was not "the thing" played a part as important in Newland Archer's New York as the inscrutable totem terrors that had ruled the destinies of his forefathers thousands of years ago

The second reason for his delay was a personal one He had dawdled over his cigar because he was at heart a dilettante, and thinking over a pleasure to coave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation This was especially the case when the pleasure was a delicate one, as his pleasures mostly were; and on this occasion the moment he looked forward to was so rare and exquisite in quality that--well, if he had tier he could not have entered the Acade: "He lovesthe falling daisy petals with notes as clear as dew