That woman had put her son in the place of an inferior--an attendant.
The great orchestra shook the house with a final crash, and the curtain rose upon the Venetian plaza.

Every face in the audience was turned attentive toward it.

But Mrs.Waldeaux saw only Lisa.
A strange change came upon her as she watched her son's wife.

For months she had struggled feebly against her hate of Lisa.

Now she welcomed it; she let herself go.
Is the old story true after all?
Is there some brutal passion hiding in every human soul, waiting its chance, even in old age?
It is certain that this woman, after her long harmless life, recognized the fury in her soul and freed it.
"Frances," whispered Clara, "when this act is over, go and speak to them.