eal performance, but
between the acts, or even between one scene and another, there is a
tendency on the part of the actors and the invited public to treat the
whole affair as a party of pleasure. Doors of communication are opened
which would otherwise be shut, people wander about the house, looking
for their friends, and if there is plenty of room they change seats now
and then. Many of the people are extremely shabby, others are
preternaturally smart; if it is in the daytime everybody wears street
clothes and the women rarely take off their hats. It is only at the
evening dress rehearsals of important new pieces at the great Paris
theatres that the house presents its usual appearance, but then there
have been already three or four real dress rehearsals at which the
necessary work has been done.

The theatre at which Margaret was making her _debut_ was a large one in
a Belgian city, a big modern house, to all appearance, and really
fitted with the usual modern machinery which has completely changed the
working of the stage since electricity was introduced. But the building
itself was old and was full of queer nooks at the back, and passages
and shafts long disused; and it had two stage entrances, one of which
was now kept locked, while the other had the usual swinging doors
guarded by a sharp-eyed doorkeeper who knew and remembered several
thousand faces of actors, singers, authors, painters, and carpenters,
and of other privileged persons from princes and bankers to
dressmakers' girls who had, or had once had, the right to enter by the
stage door. The two entrances were on opposite sides of the building.
The one no longer in use led out to a dark, vaulted passage or alley
wide enough for a carriage to enter; and formerly the carriages of the
leading singers had driven up by that way, entering at one end and
going out at the other, but the side that had formerly led to the
square before the theatre was now built up, and contained a small shop
having a back door in the dark alley, and only the other exit remained,
and it opened upon an unfrequented street behind the theatre.

The dressing-rooms had been disposed with respect to this old entrance,
and their position had never been changed. It had been convenient for
the prima donna to be able to reach her carriage after the performance
without crossing the stage; whereas, as things were now arranged, she
had a long distance to go. The new stage door had been made within