tall?”heaskedher.
“Mostawfully.”AndbythisbaldinterchangetheyconvincedeachotherthatRomancewashere.
Harriet,meanwhile,hadbeencoughingominouslyatthedrop-scene,whichpresentlyroseonthegroundsofRavenswood,andthechorusofScotchretainersburstintocry.Theaudienceaccompaniedwithtappingsanddrummings,swayinginthemelodylikecorninthewind.Harriet,thoughshedidnotcareformusic,knewhowtolistentoit.Sheutteredanacid“Shish!”
“Shutit,”whisperedherbrother.
“Wemustmakeastandfromthebeginning.They’retalking.”
“Itistiresome,”murmuredMissAbbott“butperhapsitisn’tforustointerfere.”
Harrietshookherheadandshishedagain.Thepeoplewerequiet,notbecauseitiswrongtotalkduringachorus,butbecauseitisnaturaltobeciviltoavisitor.Foralittletimeshekeptthewholehouseinorder,andcouldsmileatherbrothercomplacently.
Hersuccessannoyedhim.HehadgraspedtheprincipleofoperainItaly—itaimsnotatillusionbutatentertainment—andhedidnotwantthisgreatevening-partytoturnintoaprayer-meeting.Butsoontheboxesbegantofill,andHarriet’spowerwasover.Familiesgreetedeachotheracrosstheauditorium.Peopleinthepithailedtheirbrothersandsonsinthechorus,andtoldthemhowwelltheyweresinging.WhenLuciaappearedbythefountaintherewasloudapplause,andcriesof“WelcometoMonteriano!”
“Ridiculousbabies!”saidHarriet,settlingdowninherstall.
“Why,itisthefamoushotladyoftheApennines,”criedPhilip“theonewhohadnever,neverbefore—”
“Ugh!Don’t.Shewillbeveryvulgar.AndI’msureit’sevenworseherethaninthetunnel.Iwishwe’dnever—”
Luciabegantosing,andtherewasamoment’ssilence.Shewasstoutanduglybuthervoicewasstillbeautiful,andasshesangthetheatremurmuredlikeahiveofhappybees.Allthroughthecoloraturashewasaccompaniedbysighs,anditstopnotewasdrownedinashoutofuniversaljoy.
Sotheoperaproceeded.Thesingersdrewinspirationfromtheaudience,andthetwogreatsextetteswererenderednotunworthily.MissAbbottfellintothespiritofthething.She,too,chattedandlaughedandapplaudedandencored,andrejoicedintheexistenceofbeauty.AsforPhilip,heforgothimselfaswellashismission.Hewasnotevenanenthusiasticvisitor.Forhehadbeeninthisplacealways.Itwashishome.
Harriet,likeM.Bovaryonamorefamousoccasion,wastryingtofollowtheplot.Occasionallyshenudgedhercompanions,andaskedthemwhathadbecomeofWalterScott.Shelookedroundgrimly.Theaudiencesoundeddrunk,andevenCaroline,whonevertookadrop,wasswayingoddly.Violentwavesofexcitement,allarisingfromverylittle,wentsweepingroundthetheatre.Theclimaxwasreachedinthemadscene.Lucia,cladinwhite,asbefittedhermalady,suddenlygatheredupherstreaminghairandbowedheracknowledgmenttotheaudience.Thenfromthebackofthestage—shefeignednottoseeit—thereadvancedakindofbambooclothes-horse,stuckalloverwithbouquets.Itwasveryugly,andmostoftheflowersinitwerefalse.Luciaknewthis,andsodidtheaudienceandtheyallknewthattheclothes-horsewasapieceofstageproperty,broughtintomaketheperformancegoyearafteryear.Nonethelessdiditunloosethegreatdeeps.Withascreamofamazementandjoysheembracedtheanimal,pulledoutoneortwopracticableblossoms,pressedthemtoherlips,andflungthemintoheradmirers.Theyflungthemback,withloudmelodiouscries,andalittleboyinoneofthestageboxessnatcheduphissister’scarnationsandofferedthem.“Checarino!”exclaimedthesinger.Shedartedatthelittleboyandkissedhim.Nowthenoisebecametremendous.“Silence!silence!”shoutedmanyoldgentlemenbehind.“Letthedivinecreaturecontinue!”ButtheyoungmenintheadjacentboxwereimploringLuciatoextendhercivilitytothem.Sherefused,withahumorous,expressivegesture.Oneofthemhurledabouquetather.Shespurneditwithherfoot.Then,encouragedbytheroarsoftheaudience,shepickeditupandtossedittothem.Harrietwasalwaysunfortunate.Thebouquetstruckherfullinthechest,andalittlebillet-douxfelloutofitintoherlap.
“Callthisclassical!”shecried,risingfromherseat.“It’snotevenrespectable!Philip!takemeoutatonce.”
“Whoseisit?”shoutedherbrother,holdingupthebouquetinonehandandthebillet-douxintheother.“Whoseisit?”
Thehouseexploded,andoneoftheboxeswasviolentlyagitated,asifsomeonewasbeinghauledtothefront.Harrietmoveddownthegangway,andcompelledMissAbbotttofollowher.Philip,stilllaughingandcalling“Whoseisit?”broughtuptherear.Hewasdrunkwithexcit