they had been conscientiously drilled. They made all their
gestures together, moved in masses simultaneously, and, without
ceasing, chanted over and over again:

"O terror, O blasfema."

The finale commenced. Everybody on the stage took a step forward,
beginning all over again upon a higher key. The soprano's voice
thrilled to the very chandelier. The orchestra redoubled its efforts,
the director beating time with hands, head, and body.

"Il perfido, l'ingrato"

thundered the basso.

"Ineffabil mistero,"

answered the baritone, striking his breast and pointing with his sword;
while all at once the soprano's voice, thrilling out again, ran up an
astonishing crescendo that evoked veritable gasps from all parts of the
audience, then jumped once more to her famous C in alt, and held it
long enough for the chorus to repeat

"O terror, O blasfema"

four times.

Then the director's baton descended with the violence of a blow. There
was a prolonged crash of harmony, a final enormous chord, to which
every voice and every instrument contributed. The singers struck
tableau attitudes, the tenor fell back with a last wail:

"Je me meurs,"

and the soprano fainted into the arms of her confidante. The curtain
fell.

The house roared with applause. The scene was recalled again and again.
The tenor, scrambling to his feet, joined hands with the baritone,
soprano, and other artists, and all bowed repeatedly. Then the curtain
fell for the last time, the lights of the great chandelier clicked and
blazed up, and from every quarter of the house came the cries of the
programme sellers:

"Opera books. Books of the opera. Words and music of the opera."

During this, the last entr'acte, Laura remained in the box with Mrs.
Cressler, Corthell, and Jadwin. The others went out to look down upon
the foyer from a certain balcony.

In the box the conversation turned upon stage management, and Corthell
told how, in "L'Africaine," at the Opera, in Paris, the entire
superstructure of the stage--wings, drops, and backs--turned when Vasco
da Gama put the ship about. Jadwin having criticised the effect because
none of the actors turned with it, was voted a Philistine by Mrs.
Cressler and Corthell. But as he was about to answer, Mrs. Cressler
turned to the artist, passing him her opera glasses, and asking:

"Who are those people down there in the third row of the parquet--see,
on the middle aisle--the woman is in red