The theatre at Falconer-court was not very spacious, but it was elegantly fitted up, extremely well lighted, and had a good effect. There was a brilliant audience, an excellent band of music, and the whole had a gay and festive appearance.
The Percy family, as they came from a great distance, were late. The house was crowded. Mrs. Falconer was obliged to seat Mrs. Percy and her daughters with the Lady Arlingtons on a bench upon the stage: a conspicuous situation, which had been reserved for their ladyships.
Every eye instantly turned upon the beautiful Caroline. She bore the gaze of public admiration with a blushing dignity, which interested every body in her favour. Count Altenberg, who had anxiously expected the moment of her arrival, was, however, upon his guard. Knowing that he was watched by Mrs. Falconer’s friends, he was determined that his secret thoughts should not be seen. One involuntary glance he gave, but immediately withdrew his eye, and continued his conversation with the gentleman next to him. After a few moments had elapsed, he could indulge himself in looking at Caroline unobserved, for the gaze of public admiration is as transient as it is eager. It is surprising how short a time any face, however beautiful, engages numbers who meet together to be seen.
The audience were now happily full of themselves, arranging their seats, and doing civilities to those of their friends who were worthy of notice.
“Lady Trant! won’t your ladyship sit in the front row?”
“I’m vastly well, thank you.”
“Lady Kew, I am afraid you won’t see over my head.”
“Oh! I assure you—perfectly—perfectly.”
“Colonel Spandrill, I’ll trouble you—my shawl.”
“Clay, lend me your opera-glass.—How did you leave all at Bath?”