Thais

Tall as a white church-candle, her hair a decorous oval flame, a great lady stood on the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House, Manhattan. To the simpering music of Massenet she postured and sang, while a lovelorn monk pursued her. What should a monk have to do with so great, so good a lady? Ah, he was trying to save her soul from hellfire, for in the play she was not good at all. She was Maria Jeritza (Baroness Von Popper) pretending to be Thais (famed harlot) at the season's first performance of the opera of that name. Now it is not difficult for a courtesan to pretend to be a great lady. The best courtesans are said to give a certain number of hours each day to the practice of this role, some of them, indeed, becoming so adept that no expert can detect them; and they take their places in the world's history as women of quality. But for a great lady to pretend to be a courtesan is at once difficult and absurd. The Baroness Von Popper found it so.

Athanael, the monk (Baritone Danise) pretended, too. He pretended that the beauty of Thais had moved him to win her soul for Christ whom alone he loved, and that, in the winning, he found his love for Christ was really love for Thais. He died in torment of the flesh, while she, dying also, dreamed only of the mercy of the pale Christ, her last lover. He knew all the time that she was the Baroness Von Popper and in no more danger of hell fire than the people in the boxes, who knew this also, for she let them. But splendidly the poor monk sang, splendidly the lady and, though the music of Massenet's opus seems more and more gouty with every year, the people in the boxes, whatever their chances of escape from scorching, loudly applauded.