r."

Helen sprang up from her chair, ran to the door, flung it open. The
first act of the opera was concluded. The curtain had come down. The
house below and around, the corridor without, were full of confused
noise and movement.

"Paul, M. Destournelle, come here," she cried, "and at once!"

But Richard was more than ever tired. The strain of waiting had been
too prolonged. Lights, draperies, figures, the crowded arena, the vast
honeycomb of boxes, tier above tier, swam before his eyes, blurred,
indistinct, vague, shifting, colossal in height, giddy in depth. The
bees were swarming, at last, swarming upward through seas of iridescent
mist. But he had no longer empire over his own attitude and thoughts.
He had hoped to meet the supreme moment in full consciousness, with
clear vision and thankfulness of heart. But he was too tired to do so,
tired in brain and body alike. And so it happened that a dogged
endurance grew on him, simply a setting of the teeth and bracing of
himself to suffer silently, even stupidly, all that might be in store.
For the bees were close upon him now, countless in number, angry,
grudging, violent. But they no longer appeared as insects. They were
human, save for their velvet-like, expressionless eyes. And all those
eyes were fixed upon him, and him alone. He was the centre towards
which, in thought and action, all turned. Nor were the dull-coloured
occupants of the _parterre_ alone in their attack. For those
gay-coloured larvae--the men and women of his own class--indolent,
licentious, full-fed, hung out of the angular mouths of the waxen
cells, above the crimson and gold of their cushions, pointing at him,
claiming and yet denouncing him. And in the attitude of these the
democratic and the aristocratic sections--he detected a difference. The
former swarmed to inflict punishment for his selfishness, uselessness,
sensuality. But the latter jeered and mocked at his bodily infirmity,
deriding his deformity, making merry over his shortened limbs and
shuffling walk. And against this background, against this all-enclosing
tapestry of faces which encircled him, two persons, and the atmosphere
and aroma of them, so to speak, were clearly defined. They were close
to him, here within the narrow limits of the opera box. Then a great
humiliation overtook Richard, perceiving that they, and not the people,
the workers, august in their corporate power and strength, were to be
his executioners.--No--no--he w