But for this news, Cordova would have had one of those ovations which
rarely fall to the lot of any but famous singers, for there was not a
man or woman in the theatre who had not felt that she had averted a
catastrophe and saved scores of lives. As it was, several women had
been slightly hurt and at least fifty had fainted. Every one was
anxious to help them now, most of all the very people who had hurt
them.

But the news of an accident in the city emptied the house in a few
minutes; even now that the lights were up the anxiety to get out
to the street and to know more of the truth was great enough to be
dangerous, and the strong crowd heaved and surged again and pushed
through the many doors with little thought for the weak or for any who
had been injured in the first panic.

But in the meantime Cordova had reached her dressing-room, supported
by the enthusiastic Schreiermeyer on one side, and by the equally
enthusiastic tenor on the other, while the singular family party
assembled in the last act of _Lucia di Lammermoor_ brought up the rear
with many expressions of admiration and sympathy.

As a matter of fact the Primadonna needed neither sympathy nor
support, and that sort of admiration was not of the kind that most
delighted her. She did not believe that she had done anything heroic,
and did not feel at all inclined to cry.

'You saved the whole audience!' cried Signor Pompeo Stromboli, the
great Italian tenor, who presented an amazing appearance in his
Highland dress. 'Four thousand seven hundred and fifty-three people
owe you their lives at this moment! Every one of them would have been