We're coming back to our own!"
There was some such malicious air about the whole theatre. Above, in the
circle, the little empty boxes were dim and shadowy, and one fancied
figures moved there, and then saw that there was no one. Someone up in
the gallery laughed, and the laugh went echoing up and down the empty
spaces. A few people came in and sat nervously about, and no one spoke
except in a low whisper, because voices sounded so loud and impertinent.
Then again the man in the gallery laughed, and every one looked up
frowning. The play began. It was, I think, _Les Idees de Francoise_, but
of that I cannot be sure. It was a farce of the regular French type,
with a bedroom off, and marionettes who continually separated into
couples and giggled together. The giggling to-night was of a sadly
hollow sort. I pitied and admired the actors, spontaneous as a rule, but
now bravely stuffing any kind of sawdust into the figures in their
hands, but the leakage was terrible, and the sawdust lay scattered all
about the stage. The four of us sat as solemn as statues--I don't think
one of us smiled. It was during the second Act that I suddenly laughed.
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