The Metropolitan Opera House hummed its loudest and busiest. Every half minute, a notable trod down a plush aisle: a social lioness, jewels agleam, stalked her stately way into a well-known box; this distinguished musician, that famed diplomat—they kept the audience craning necks, peering into programs, discussing personalities. The most brilliant gathering of the, year, had assembled to hear the first U. S. opera commissioned by Gatti-Casazza, The King's Henchman. A half-hour before the tall yellow curtains parted, the standees were under full pressure. Many...
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