The Music Throbbed In a Voice Of Singular And Delicate Power; The Air
Was Resonant With Melody, Love And Pain. The Meanest Italian In the
Gallery Far Up Beneath The Ceiling, The Most Exalted Of The Land In the
Boxes And The Stalls, Leaned Indulgently Forward, To Be Swept By This
Sweet Storm Of Song. They Yielded Themselves Utterly To The Power Of
The Triumphant Debutante Who Was Making "Manassa" The Musical Feast Of
The Year, Renewing to Covent Garden A Reputation Which Recent Lack Of
Enterprise Had Somewhat Forfeited.
Posts and Comments
