egard his refusal to do wrong when
Stoller wanted him to as quite wiping out the first offence."

"Well, my dear, you have burnt your ships behind you. My only hope is
that when we leave here tomorrow, her pessimistic papa's poison will
neutralize yours somehow."

XLII.

One of the pleasantest incidents of March's sojourn in Carlsbad was his
introduction to the manager of the municipal theatre by a common friend
who explained the editor in such terms to the manager that he conceived
of him as a brother artist. This led to much bowing and smiling from
the manager when the Marches met him in the street, or in their frequent
visits to the theatre, with which March felt that it might well have
ended, and still been far beyond his desert. He had not thought of going
to the opera on the Emperor's birthnight, but after dinner a box came
from the manager, and Mrs. March agreed with him that they could not in
decency accept so great a favor. At the same time she argued that they
could not in decency refuse it, and that to show their sense of the
pleasure done them, they must adorn their box with all the beauty
and distinction possible; in other words, she said they must ask Miss
Triscoe and her father.

"And why not Major Eltwin and his wife? Or Mrs. Adding and Rose?"

She begged him, simply in his own interest, not to be foolish; and they
went early, so as to be in their box when their guests came. The
foyer of the theatre was banked with flowers, and against a curtain of
evergreens stood a high-pedestalled bust of the paternal Caesar, with
whose side-whiskers a laurel crown comported itself as well as it could.
At the foot of the grand staircase leading to the boxes the manager
stood in evening dress, receiving his friends and their felicitations
upon the honor which the theatre was sure to do itself on an occasion so
august. The Marches were so cordial in their prophecies that the manager
yielded to an artist's impulse and begged his fellow-artist to do him
the pleasure of coming behind the scenes between the acts of the opera;
he bowed a heart-felt regret to Mrs. March that he could not make the
invitation include her, and hoped that she would not be too lonely while
her husband was gone.

She explained that they had asked friends, and she should not be alone,
and then he entreated March to bring any gentleman who was his guest
with him. On the way up to their box, she pressed his arm as she used in
their young