as heard behind the scenes. Then a man, dressed in
complete black, and excessively pale, jumped upon the stage. His black
hair was tossed all over his head, and his black eyes were rolling
wildly. Thus much all the spectators saw at a glance.

The strange man's first intention appeared to be to dash at the happy
couple; but, if so, he checked himself, and, standing at a distance of
four feet from them, uttered these words: "Scoundrel! what are you doing
with my wife there?" The man's whole figure could be seen to tremble.

Many of the spectators, supposing this was a part of the play--though
they did not see its precise connection with the plot--applauded what
was apparently a fine piece of acting.

"Good!" "Capital!" "Bravo!" were heard from all parts of the room,
mingled with stamping and clapping.

The man darted looks of concentrated hate at the audience.

"Who is he?" "How well he does it!" "What splendid tragedy powers!" were
some of the audible remarks that this called forth.

It was also observed that a wonderfully natural style of acting was
instantly developed among the other _dramatis personae_. Fidelia sprang
from the arms of Alberto, and put on a lifelike expression of insulted
dignity, mingled with astonishment. Alberto took a step away from the
ghastly intruder, and was evidently at a loss what to do. His face was
eloquent with bewilderment and mortification. The father looked confused
and sheepish, and put his hands into his pockets. Bidette screamed a
little, and fled to the opposite scenes. Uncle Bignolio whistled and
smiled, and was evidently amused at the occurrence.

All this, done in five seconds, so delighted the spectators, that they
cheered, and cheered again. "As good as a theatre!" ejaculated a new
friend of Mrs. Slapman's, on the front row.

The strange, disorderly man plunged forward with one leg toward Alberto,
and then drew himself back suddenly, as if in a state of harassing
indecision. (Applause.) Then he cast a diabolical look (worthy of the
elder Booth in Richard III) at the young lover, and shrieked, "Wretch!
villain! I will--I will--" He hesitated to add what he would do, but
shook his fists in a highly natural manner at the object of his hate.
(Great applause.)

"Sir!" said Fidelia, stretching her proud young form erect, like a
tragedy queen, "How dare you, sir!" (Boisterous applause, and this
remark from an elderly gentleman: "The picture of Mrs. Siddons!")

The singular