The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1907-12-04

For five years had been confined
10 my armchair by paralysis. Occa-
sionally / would be carried down to
an open carriage and taken for an
hour or two through the city, or the
neighboring country. My legs-well,
there is no necessity to speak of
them; one of my arms was still able
to move, and, thanks TO it, l could
still eat alone. But my eyes were
good and my hearing was acute.
One day, when the time was eX-
treMely dull, l fancied that l would
regain complete calmness If l could
hear an opera. My friends remon-
etrated, but l insisted. / cannot tell
how happy was-I was going to be
filled with music, good music. BY an
unexpected chance they played lie
Prophete,' one of the works that i
had always preferred.
At last the hour came. My niece
of sixteen was to accompany me.
Two strong men carried me to my
chair. Fortunately we did not live
very far from the theatre.
My nephew had thoughtlessly Sc
cured seats in the first circle. No
matter, my two bearers installed me
there, me and my armchair. / was
directly in the centre, just opposite
the stage, and saw admirably all the
theatre, from the pit and the orches-
ira chairs to the boxes of the fourth
circle, that legendary place where you
are not incommoded by the chande-
lier-you see over it.. I remained
alone with my niece, who was as
much enchanted as was.
They played the first act do not
remember ever to have enjoyed in
my life happiness so complete, so
heavenly The second, third and
fourth acts were rendered in man
ner that thought perfect.
During the intermission I noticed
between two violoncellos an odd little
creature, in whom l felt unaccounta-
bly, interested. He was a poor, mis-
cradle fellow, shockingly deformed,
but his features were quite regular.
When he played all his body moved
and appeared to wrap itself around
the violoncello in fantastic and low
ing manner; forming a singular con-
trast, his face assumed a serious and
almost austere expression, and the
light of enthusiasm illumined his
eyes.
l unused in silence until the mo-
ment when Jean of Leyden thinks
that he should reveal his accomplices
that they must die with him. Then
a white smoke rose on the scene
through the cracks in the floor. 1t
excited no attention, and was only
thicker than the smoke usually en-
ployed, but suddenly there was an
explosion and flash that dimmed the
lights in the auditorium; then all the
dancers rushed toward the wings; the
tenor lifted his white robe and liter
ally took fight, and all the other
singers and choristers disappeared one
after another.
what does this mean?" demand
ed some of the audience, already
alarmed.
Here young woman appeared on
the stage, running. The most fright
full terror was expressed in her face.
The poor girl, distracted, sprang into
the orchestra, screaming in a choking
voice: "Fire!"
The audience started with one
sound. Oh, l remember all as if 1t
were still passing before my eyes.
The musicians stopped suddenly, but
not all together, for some random
notes broke forth, here and there, on
the air. Frantic with fear, they
rushed toward the door of the orches-
ira, but quickly returned. The re-
treat was cut off. They must escape
by the auditorium.
The auditorium! All, there every
thing was frightful. horrible, incon-
ceivable! 1t was battlefield. AT
first / did not appreciate the danger,
and then / trembled and shook with
an unnatural fear. Alone with
Jeanne-alone with that child who
could do nothing for me and who re-
mained calm. I realized that / must
remain where l was, without being
able to stir, at the mercy of the fire
which would slowly advance to lich
me, to burn me alive, to'consume me
Nevertheless. l did not lose my pres
ence OF mind.
"Quick!" / said to little Jeanne
"fy. my child, and hasten to FIND
some one who will take me away, 4
there is time"
A young man who had Doticed m!
niece hurried toward her.
Come. little one," said he to thu
child. Without ceremony he pulled
l. IL. l.