Miriam Monfort - A Novel by Catherine A. Warfield
page 70 of 567 (12%)
page 70 of 567 (12%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
placed in the navy and he was absent now, and Mr. Gerald Stanbury
obstinately refused to accompany us to that "monkey-and-parrot show," as he deliberately dubbed the Italian opera. "When men and women who are in love or grief, or who are telling each other the news, or secrets, stop to set their words to music, and roar and howl in each other's ears, the world will be mad, and the opera natural," he said. "I will not lend my countenance before them to such a villainous travesty." As "Masaniello" had nearly had its run, and Evelyn was disinclined to see it again, having attended during the winter about twenty representations of this great musical spectacle, I was fain to go with our neighbors and their very youthful escort, or forego my opera. As we entered the crowded lobby, Laura and I walked together behind George Gaston and Mrs. Stanbury, dropping later into Indian file as the crowd increased, in which order I was the last. I wore a rich India shawl, that had been my mother's, caught by a cameo clasp across the bosom. Suddenly I felt the pin wrenched away and the shawl torn from my shoulders. In another moment there was a cry--a scuffle--a fall--and a prostrate form was borne away between two policemen, while a gentleman, with his cravat hanging loose and his hair in wild confusion, came toward me eagerly, extending the shawl and clasp. "These are yours, I believe, young lady," he remarked, breathlessly, throwing the shawl about my shoulders as he spoke, and laying the broken clasp in my hand. "I am happy to restore them to you." The whole transaction had been so sudden and so public, that there had |
|