trouble? I knew, or hoped I knew, that she would
struggle to the Astor Library, as to her only place of rescue and
refuge,--her asylum. What if I failed her there? I who had pretended to
be her protector! "Protector, indeed!" she would say, if she knew I was
at a theatre witnessing the greatest folly of the age. And if I did not
meet her to-day, when should I meet her? If she found her aunt, how
should I find her? If she did not find her,--good God? that was
worse,--where might she not be before twelve hours were over? Then the
fatal trunk! I had told the police agent he might send it to the St.
Nicholas, because I had to give him some address. But Fausta did not
know this, and the St. Nicholas people knew nothing of us. I grew more
and more excited, and when at last my next neighbor told me that it was
half past four, I rose and insisted on leaving my seat. Two ushers with
blue sashes almost held me down; they showed me the whole assembly
sinking into quiet. In fact, at that moment Mr. Burrham was begging
every one to be seated. I would not be seated. I would go to the door. I
would go out. "Go, if you please!" said the usher next it,
contemptuously. And I looked, and there was no handle! Yet this was not
a dream. It is the way they arrange the doors in halls where they choose
to keep people in their places. I could have collared that grinning blue
sash. I did tell him I would wring his precious neck for him, if he did
not let me out. I said I would sue him for false imprisonment; I would
have a writ of _habeas corpus_.

"_Habeas corpus_ be d----d!" said the officer, with an irreverent
disrespect to the palladium. "If you are not more civil, sir, I will
call the police, of whom we have plenty. You say you want to go out; you
are keeping everybody in."

And, in fact, at that moment the clear voice of the mayor was announcing
that they would not go on until there was perfect quiet; and I felt that
I was imprisoning all these people, not they me.

"Child of the Public," said my mourning genius, "are you better than
other men?" So I sneaked back to seat No. 3,671, amid the contemptuous
and reproachful looks and sneers of my more respectable neighbors, who
had sat where they were told to do. We must be through in a moment, and
perhaps Fausta would be late also. If only the Astor would keep open
after sunset! How often have I wished that since, and for less reasons!

Silence thus restored, Mr. A----, the mayor, led forwar