In the plot the hero (Marjory Dean), a white boy, son of a rich trader, caught by the lure of mystery, adventure and tales of the magic curtain, volunteers to take the place of a rich Chinese youth who is to endure the trial by fire.
A very ugly old Chinaman, who holds the white boy in high regard, learning of his plans and realizing his peril, prepares the trap-door in the floor beneath the magic curtain.
When the hour comes for the trial by fire, the white boy, being ignorant of the secrets that will save him, appears doomed as the flames of the curtain surround him, consuming the very mask from his face and leaving him there, his identity revealed in stark reality.
Then as the rich Chinaman, who has planned the trial, realizes the catastrophe that must befall his people if the rich youth is burned to death, prepares to cast himself into the flames, the floor opens to swallow the boy up, and the curtain fades.
There is not space here to tell of the motives of love, hate, pride and patriotism that lay back of this bit of drama. Enough that when it was done Marjory Dean pronounced it the most perfect bit of opera yet produced in America.
"And you will be our diva?" Jeanne was all eagerness.
"Then," Angelo's eyes shone, "then we are indeed rich once more."
"Yes. Your beautiful rugs, your desk, your ancient friend the piano, they shall all come back to you." In her joy Jeanne could have embraced him. As it was she wrung his hand in parting, and thanked him over and over for his part in this bit of work and adventure.
"The music," she whispered to Swen, "you will do it?"
"It is as well as done. The wind whispering in the graveyard pines at midnight. This is done by reeds and strings. And there are the gongs, the deep melodious gongs of China. What more could one ask?"
"And now," said Florence, after she had, some hours later, listened to Jeanne's recital of that night's affairs, "now that it is all over, what is there in it all for you?"
"For me?" Jeanne spread her hands wide. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Only this," Jeanne interrupted her, "you said once that one found the best joy in life by helping others. Well then," she laughed a little laugh, "I have helped a little.
Was she right? Does one sometimes serve himself best by serving others? We shall see.