audience between
the acts, as to watch the drama upon the stage. Ladies were admitted to
the stalls, and the house looked more civilised in consequence. Many of
the men in this polite Spain sat with their hats on until the curtain
drew up. Altogether the house presented a very lively appearance.

"Who would have thought it!" said H. C. "The place overflows with wealth
and rank. These people might be dukes and duchesses--and look the
character much more than many of our 'Coronets and Norman blood.' Yet as
we passed Gerona in the train it seemed nothing but an encampment for
beggars. Beggars? Let me apologise. Beggars would want something more
recherche. In these days that flourishing profession dines at eight
o'clock and sleeps on down."

In the foyer, between one of the acts, we came into closer contact with
this aristocratic crowd.

It was a very large long room, gorgeously fitted up; great mirrors
giving back full-length reflections. Few ladies honoured it with their
presence, but a crowd of short, dark, handsome Spaniards went to and
fro, smoking cigarettes, wildly gesticulating about Margaret, abusing
the unfortunate Siebel, openly passing their opinions upon the ladies of
the audience. Mixing freely amongst them we heard many an amusing remark
upon people we were able to identify on returning to our seats. At the
end of the third act we began to feel like old habitues. A week in
Gerona and we should be familiar with every one's history.

"A happy thought, coming here to-night," said H. C. "I am now quite at
home amongst these people, and should like to call upon some of them
to-morrow. That exquisite creature, for instance, with the lovely eyes,
perfect features, and complexion of a blush rose. I believe--yes, I am
sure--look--she is gazing at me with a very sweet expression!"

He was growing excited. We grasped his arm with a certain magnetic touch
which recalled him to himself. Keepers have this influence on their
patients.

"Look at the old woman next to her," he went on indignantly. "Can she be
the mother of that lovely girl? She ought to blush for herself. Her
dress-bodice ends at the waist. And behind her fan she is actually
ogling a toothless old wretch who has just sat down near her."

Here, fortunately, the curtain went up, and H. C.'s emotions passed into
another channel.

[Illustration: STREET IN GERONA.]

The performance had equalled our modest expectations. One must not be
too critical. If