CHAPTER XIII
NOT CLOUDS ALONE HAVE LININGS
THE weather turned off warm. The rise in the temperature may have been responsible for the melting of Princess Mariana Theresa Sebastano Michelini Celestine di Pavesi's heart, or it may have sharply revealed to her calculating mind the prospect of a long and profitless season in cold storage for Prince de Bosky's fur-lined coat. In any event, she notified him by post to call for his coat and take it away with him.
The same post brought a letter from the Countess du Bara advising him that her brother-in-law, who conducted an all-night café just off Broadway in the very heart of the thriftless district, had been compelled to dismiss the leader of his far-famed Czech orchestra, and that she had recommended him for the vacancy. He would have to hurry, however.
In a postscript, she hoped he wouldn't mind wearing a red coat.
The Countess du Bara was of the Opera, where she was known as Mademoiselle Belfort and occupied a fairly prominent position in the front row of chorus sopranos. Some day she was to make her début as a principal. The Director of the Opera had promised her that, and while she regarded his promise as being as good as gold, it was, unfortunately, far more elastic, as may be gathered from the fact that it already had
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