actor's
room to congratulate him on his success and his speedy recovery from the
sensational scene. Another party of Pollos chokes the narrow passage
leading to the premiere danseuse's boudoir, and great is their joy when
they catch a glimpse of the gauze goddess as she flutters hurriedly past
on her way to the green-room. The stage is thronged with these walking
gentlemen, who require no rehearsal or prompter, and whose most
attractive performance consists in unbounded cigarette smoking, and in
getting in everybody's way. It is a miracle how, in the midst of this
dire confusion, carpenters, scene-shifters, and managers contrive to set
the stage for another act; and what a scene would be disclosed if the
drop were to rise prematurely! Presently a voice is heard to cry,
'Fuera!' this being Spanish for 'Clear the stage;' the big bell tolls,
and the audience in due course return to their places in front. The
curtain having been drawn up after the drama, a man comes round, like a
ticket-collector on a railway, to demand the cards of reserved seats
from their holders, and to distribute programmes for to-morrow's
performances. Everybody is in turn disturbed and annoyed, for at that
moment the low-comedy man is singing a comic parody, in a farce called
'The Sexton and the Widow.'

But there is a graver interruption than that caused by the
ticket-collector--an interruption which affects actors as well as
audience, rendering everybody within the theatre walls motionless and
speechless. Some ladies are seen to cross themselves devoutly, and are
heard to utter ejaculations about 'Misericordia' and 'Maria Santisima.'
Every door in the theatre is thrown wide open, and the servants of the
establishment stand before them with lighted candles. What is amiss? I
look for El Marquesito del Queso, but he has disappeared. Fire? The
black bombero firemen are in their accustomed places, and exhibit no
sign that such a catastrophe has occurred. Rebellious outbreak of
runaway niggers? I glance at the military-box, and find the occupants
peacefully inclined. Earthquake? I look towards the doctor's box, and
observe that nervous gentleman perfectly tranquil and unmoved. Hark! a
tinkling bell is ringing somewhere outside the theatre. From my
position in the stalls I can see into the open street beyond, and anon I
descry a procession of church dignitaries in full canonicals, the first
of whom bears the tinkling bell, while the rest carry long wax c