ct a new play was making, was by watching
and listening at the very moment of the curtain's fall. If the people
instantly turned to one another in eager speech, and a bee-like hum of
conversation arose, he nodded his head with pleased satisfaction--he knew
they were saying, "How lovely!" "That was a fine effect!" "We've had
nothing better for a long time!" "It's just divine!" "It's great!" etc.

When they spoke slowly and briefly, he shook his head; but when they sat
still and gazed steadily straight ahead of them, he called a new play for
rehearsal next morning.

That second act had made him shake his head; the third came on with
_Cora's_ rejected love, her strangling tears of self-pity, her whirlwind
of passion, ending with that frantic and incredible threat. The people
caught at it! I suppose the swiftness of its action, the heat and fury
following so close upon the two slow, dull acts, pleased and aroused
them. The curtain went up and down, up and down, call after call, and
when at last it was allowed to remain down, myriads of bees might have
been swarming in front, and Mr. Daly, nodding and smiling as I rushed
past on my way to change my gown, said: "Hear 'em--hear the bees
buzz--that's good! Now if only you----"

I waited not for the rest--too well I knew how to complete the sentence:
"If only I could safely hive those swarming bees" for him. Could I? Oh,
could I? for the moment was at hand, the "mad-scene," so dreaded, so
feared!

Three things I had counted upon to help my effects: the crouch, the
laugh, the scar. The crouch had just done splendid service at the end of
Act III. Would the other two be as effective?

I went up to the stage; I was to be discovered lying on a lounge. Miss
Davenport, magnificently handsome in person and gown, beside me; the
others at the gambling-table. As she took my hand she gave a sharp little
cry: "Heavens!" she said, "you might be dead, you are like ice!" She
touched my forehead, asking, "Are you ill? Why, your head is burning,
hot! hot! hot! Mr. Daly, just touch her hands and head!"

He looked down on me in silence; two pairs of frightened eyes met; he
gave a groan; threw out his hands helplessly; stepped off the stage, and
signaled the curtain up on what was to make or break the play--and he
knew no more what to expect than did one of the ushers out in front.

Under cover of the music and the applause accompanying the curtain's
rise, I caught myself muttering, vaguely: