The tension of expectancy was broken, and a momentary excitement pulsed through the multitude. All arose to their feet, and remained standing.
An emperor, or something of the kind, entered the royal box. Walter could see little; but he inferred what was going on from whisperings he heard about him. His majesty had made a quick rush for his chair, turning over a few other chairs in so doing. That was a habit of his. Then he looked about the auditorium for a moment with squinted eyes, jerked up his chair and fell into it. He was in a hurry. The public was now at liberty to take their seats.
The other boxes were now filled quickly, as if by a stroke of magic. Remarkable costumes were on exhibition. There were bodices three inches wide, with skirts of as many yards. Voluptuous bosoms hovered between chin and girdle. Scanty sleevelets did not know whether they were to cover arms or shoulders. The ladies wore kid gloves reaching to their armpits, and on their heads were turbans and flower-gardens. The uniforms of the gentlemen were even more conspicuous. Those shakos! The enemy would have run at the sight of them.
The orchestra began to play. It was that song about the brave Dunois, of course.
“Arise!” someone called; and all scrambled to their feet again in honor of the brave hero.
The curtain went up.
“Yes, Minos, on the present that I gave to thee——
’Twas stolen from the church——”
“What church?” asked Walter.
“Sh!” from William. “Poetic license. You will see how it is.”