les Fechter had just been having
remodeled, and the police discovering that day that the floor of the
balcony was settling at the right, under the too great weight, very
cleverly ordered the ushers to whisper a seeming message in the ear of a
person here, there, and yonder, who would nod, rise, and step quietly
out, returning a moment later to smilingly motion their party out with
them, and thus the weight was lightened without a panic being caused,
though it made one feel rather sick and faint afterward to note the depth
to which the floor had sagged under the feet of that tightly packed
audience.

James Lewis used to say to me: "Clara is the biggest fraud of a
first-nighter the profession can show. There she'll stand shivering and
shaking, white-sick with fright, waiting for her cue, and when she gets
it, she skips on and waltzes through her scene as if she'd been at it for
a year at least. No wonder Mr. Daly calls her his best first-nighter."

So at that first performance of "Camille," as Frank Mayo touched my icy
hand and burning brow, and saw the trembling of my limbs, as with
fever-dried lips I waited for the curtain's rise, he said: "God! but you
suffer! I reckon you'll not act much to-day, little woman!" And a few
minutes later, as I laughed and chatted gayly through the opening lines
of the play, I distinctly heard Frank say: "Well, of all the sells! Why
confound her, I'm twice as nervous as she is!"

The first act went with a sort of dash and go that was the result of pure
recklessness. The house was delighted. The curtain had to go up twice. We
all looked at one another, and then laughingly laid it to the crowd. The
second act went with such a rush and sweep of hot passion between
_Armand_ and _Camille_ that when _De Varville's_ torn letter was cast to
_Nanine_ as _Camille's_ answer, and the lovers leaped to each others'
arms, the house simply roared, and as the curtain went up and down, up
and down, Mayo gasped in amazement: "Well, I'm damned!" But I made
answer: "No, you're not--but you _will_ be if you hammer my poor spine in
another act as you have in this. Go easy, Frank; I can't stand it!"

The third act went beautifully. Many women sobbed at times. I made my
exit some little time before the end of the act, and of course went
directly to my room, which was beneath the stage, and there began to
dress for the ball-room scene, and lo! after _Armand_ had had two or
three calls for his last speech, someth