'Fuera ese hombre!' (Turn out that man!) shrieks voice number two.
'Polizia!' The theatrical president rises angrily from his box and summons the police.
The male spectators who occupy the pit-stalls begin to be as unruly as they are at a bull-fight. The ladies move from their boxes to the lobbies.
The censor is sent for by the president. The manager is charged to appear by the censor; and anon Ramon, alias Don Baltazar Telon y Escotillon, his face and dress besmeared with charcoal, steps into the president's 'palco.'
'Bravo! Bien!' from the audience, whose good-humour is at once restored by this new and unexpected diversion.
A mighty conference is held in the president's box, and the matter of dispute is warmly discussed with suitable gesticulations. The question is, however, finally decided in favour of the manager.
Order being now established, the president's box is cleared, the actors resume their positions on the stage, and the farce, which proves a great success, terminates happily.
When the performances are over, and I have attired myself in the costume of the country, I join my friends in the front of the house.
Don Benigno and his family congratulate me on my successful début and express a hope that it will not be my last appearance on the Cuban stage.
Tunicú, Bimba and others of my Pollo friends overwhelm me with compliments, and as soon as I am at liberty, they hurry me and Nicasio off to the nearest café, where a substantial supper is soon provided.