mposer's score. In
vain Raoul cries, "Speak on, and prolong the ineffable slumber of
my soul." Valentine cannot "prolong." It is evident that an
unaccustomed fire devours her. Her _b's_ and her _c's_ above the
stave were dreadfully shrill. He struggles, he gesticulates, he
is all in a glow.

The alarum is heard; the bell resounds; but what a panting bell!
The bell-ringer has evidently lost his self-control. It is a
frightful tocsin, which violently struggles against the fury of
the orchestra.

Finally the air which ends this magnificent act, beginning, "No
more love, no more intoxication, O the remorse that oppresses
me!" which the composer marks _allegro con moto_, becomes a wild
_prestissimo_. You would say an express-train was whirling by.
The alarum resounds again. Valentine falls fainting. Raoul
precipitates himself from the window.

It was high time. The orchestra, really intoxicated, could not
have gone on. The leader's baton is no longer anything but a
broken stick on the prompter's box. The violin strings are
broken, and their necks twisted. In his fury the drummer has
burst his drum. The counter-bassist has perched on the top of his
musical monster. The first clarionet has swallowed the reed of
his instrument, and the second hautboy is chewing his reed keys.
The groove of the trombone is strained, and finally the unhappy
cornist cannot withdraw his hand from the bell of his horn, into
which he had thrust it too far.

And the audience! The audience, panting, all in a heat,
gesticulates and howls. All the faces are as red as if a fire
were burning within their bodies. They crowd each other, hustle
each other to get out--the men without hats, the women without
mantles! They elbow each other in the corridors, crush between
the doors, quarrel, fight! There are no longer any officials, any
burgomaster. All are equal amid this infernal frenzy!

[Illustration: They hustle each other to get out]

Some moments after, when all have reached the street, each one
resumes his habitual tranquillity, and peaceably enters his
house, with a confused remembrance of what he has just experienced.

The fourth act of the "Huguenots," which formerly lasted six
hours, began, on this evening at half-past four, and ended at
twelve minutes before five.

It had only lasted eighteen minutes!

CHAPTER VIII.

IN WHICH THE ANCIENT AND SOLEMN GERMAN WALTZ BECOMES A WHIRLWIND.

But if the spectators, on leaving the theat