"So, M. Morok, the signal may be given?"
"The signal may—be given," replied Morok. And the manager went out.
CHAPTER XIII.
UP WITH THE CURTAIN.
The usual bell sounded with solemnity behind the scenes the overture began, and, to say the truth, but little attention was paid to it. The interior of the theatre offered a very animated view. With the exception of two stage-boxes even with the dress circle, one to the left, the other to the right of the audience, every seat was occupied. A great number of very fashionable ladies, attracted, as is always the case, by the strange wildness of the spectacle, filled the boxes. The stalls were crowded by most of the young men who; in the morning, had walked their horses on the Champs-Elysees. The observations which passed from one stall to another, will give some idea of their conversation.
"Do you know, my dear boy, there would not be so crowded or fashionable an audience to witness Racine's Athalia?"
"Undoubtedly. What is the beggarly howling of an actor, compared to the roaring of the lion?"
"I cannot understand how the authorities permit this Morok to fasten his panther with a chain to an iron ring in the corner of the stage. If the chain were to break?"
"Talking of broken chains—there's little Mme. de Blinville, who is no tigress. Do you see her in the second tier, opposite?"
"It becomes her very well to have broken, as you say, the marriage chain; she looks very well this season."