ur sentence must remain;
No writ of error lies--to Drury Lane."

She was the talk of the day and her praises or deficiencies were
discussed by the scandal-carriers of the town; the worn-out dowagers,
the superannuated maidens, the "tabernacle gallants," the male members
of the tea tables and all the coxcombs, sparks and beaux who haunted
the stage door.

The player had every stimulus to appear at her best on this particular
evening, for the audience, frivolous, volatile, taking its character
from the loose, weak king, was unusually complaisant through the
presence of the first gentleman of Europe. As the last of the Georges
declared himself in good-humor, so every toady grinned and every
courtly flunkey swore in the Billingsgate of that profanely eloquent
period that the actress was a "monstrous fine woman."

With rare discretion and spirit had the latter played, a queenly
figure in that ribald, gross gathering. She had reached the scene
where the actress turns upon her tormentors, those noble ladies of
rank and position, and launches the curse of a soul lashed beyond
endurance. Sweeping forward to confront her adversaries, about to face
them, her troubled glance chanced to fall into one of the side boxes
where were seated a certain foreign marquis, somewhat notorious, and a
lady of insolent, patrician bearing. The anticipated action was
arrested, for at sight of the nobleman and his companion, Adrienne
swayed slightly, as though moved by a new overpowering emotion. Only
for a moment she hesitated, then fixing her blazing eyes upon the two
and lifting her arm threateningly, the bitter words flowed from her
lips with an earnestness that thrilled the audience. A pallor
overspread the face of the marquis, while the lady drew back behind
the draperies, almost as if in fear. At the conclusion of that effort
the walls echoed with plaudits; the actress stood as in a trance; her
face was pale, her figure seemed changed to stone and the light went
out of her eyes.

She fainted and fell and the curtain descended quickly. The woman by
the marquis' side, who had trembled at first, now forced a laugh, as
she said: "The trollop can curse! Let us go." Together they left the
box, the marquis regretting the temerity which had led him to bring
his companion to the theater. He, too, was secretly unnerved, and,
when they entered the carriage, they seated themselves as far apart as
possible, the marquis detesting the lady an