A LAST WORD

The above article was shown to Mr. Caruso, at his request, and I was
asked a few days later to come to him. There had been the usual
rehearsal at the Opera House that day. "Ah, those rehearsals," exclaimed
the secretary, stopping his typewriter for an instant; "no one who has
never been through it has any idea of what a rehearsal means." And he
lifted hands and eyes expressively. "Mr. Caruso rose at eight, went to
rehearsal at ten and did not finish till after three. He is now resting,
but will see you in a moment."

Presently the great tenor opened the door and entered. He wore a
lounging coat of oriental silk, red bordered, and on the left hand
gleamed a wonderful ring, a broad band of dull gold, set with diamonds,
rubies and sapphires. He shook hands, said he had read my story, that it
was quite correct and had his entire approval.

"And have you a final message to the young singers who are struggling
and longing to sing some day as wonderfully as you do?"

"Tell them to study, to work always,--and--to sacrifice!"

His eyes had a strange, inscrutable light in them, as he doubtless
recalled his own early struggles, and life of constant effort.

And so take his message to heart:

"Work, work--and--sacrifice!"