how on Monday and Wednesday nights and the Thursday matinee,
all of which were Caravaggio performances, he resented Biff's
presence. From dark corners he more darkly watched them chatting in
frank enjoyment of each other's company; he made unexpected darts in
front of their very eyes to greet them with the most alarming scowls;
and because he insolently brushed the shoulder of the peaceably
inclined and self-sure Biff upon divers occasions, and Biff made no
sign of resentment, he imagined that Biff trembled in his boots
whenever he noted the approach of the redoubtable Ricardo with his
infinitesimal but ferocious mustachios. Great, then, was his wonder,
to say nothing of his rage, when Biff, after all the scowls and
shoulderings that he had received on Thursday, actually came around
for Friday night's _Carmen_ performance!
Even before the fierce Ricardo had gone into his dressing-room he was
already taking upon himself the deadly character of Don Jose, and his
face surged red with fury when he saw Biff Bates, gaily laughing as if
no doom impended, come in at the stage door with the equally gay and
care-free Caravaggio. But after Signor Ricardo had donned the costume
and the desperateness of the brigadier Don Jose--it was then that the
fury sank into his soul! And that fury boiled and seethed as, during
the first and second acts, he found in the wings Signorina
Car-r-r-r-r-r-avaggio absorbed in pleasant but very significant chat
with his deadly enemy, the crude, unmusical, inartistic, soulless
Biffo de Bates-s-s-s! But, ah! There was another act to come, the
third act, at the beginning of which the property man handed him the
long, sharp, wicked-looking, bloodthirsty knife with which he was to
fight Escamillo, and with which in the fourth act he was to kill
Carmen. The mere possession of that knife wrought the great tenor's
soul to gory tragedy; so much so that immediately after the third act
curtain calls he rushed directly to the spot where he knew the
contemptible Signor Biffo de Bates-s-s-s to be standing, and with
shrill Latin imprecations flourished that keen, glistening blade
before the eyes of the very much astounded Biff.
For a moment, thoroughly incredulous, Biff refused to believe it,
until a second demonstration compelled him to acknowledge that the
great Ricardo actually meant threatening things toward himself. When
this conviction forced its way upon him, Biff calmly reached out, and,
with a grip very m
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