She wheeled about and stamped her foot. "Silence, pigs!" she screamed.
Beatrice, appearing at my side, evidently perceived the gesture. Her face turned crimson and she drew herself up proudly.
"Gaiterno!" she called, "stop that noise."
The boy paused, and, still bent over at the lower curve of his stroke, turned an astonished face toward us. The chatter from the seats hushed.
"Stop the music," repeated Beatrice, imperiously.
A grumble sounded in the rear and increased from seat to seat until it was a growl. The corners of Beatrice's mouth curled up like those of an angry cat. She wheeled about and stamped her foot.
"Silence, pigs!" she screamed.
The tumult fell away. For a moment the girl stood poised as if ready to spring, and then turned, and, in the hush passed beyond us to a seat at Deborah's farther side. My companion shrank slightly toward me and once more laid a hand upon my arm. Her face was turned toward Beatrice, whose color had died down and whose eyes were perfectly indifferent.
The raising of the curtain put an end to the strain. The audience, forgetting their disappointment, bent excited faces toward the stage, and so, after a few moments, did Deborah.