corner. A curl came to the great actor's lip, then he said inquiringly,
"What for?" The actor stammered, "I--I--it's my cross, you know--the end
of my speech."--"Y-e-es," sweetly acquiesced the star. "Y-e-es, you
cross, I see--but what for?" The actor hesitated. "You do _so_," went on
Salvini, giving a merciless imitation of the swelling chest and stage
stride of the guilty one, as he had crossed from centre down to extreme
right. "You do so--but for _why_? A-a-ah!" Suddenly he seemed to catch
an idea. "A-a-ah! is it that you have zee business with zee people in
zee box? A-a-ah! you come spik to zose people? No? Not for that you
come? You have _no_ reason for come here, you say? Then, for God's sake,
stay centre till you _have_ a reason!"

It was an awful lesson, but what delicious acting. The simple, earnest
inquiry, the delighted catching at an idea, the following
disappointment, and the final outburst of indignant authority--he never
did anything better for the public.

During the short time we acted together but one cloud, a tiny, tiny one
of misunderstanding, rose between us, but according to reports made by
lookers-on a good deal of lightning came out of it. Of course not
understanding each other's language, we had each to watch the other as a
cat would watch a mouse, in order to take our cues correctly. At one
point I took for mine his sudden pause in a rapidly delivered speech,
and at that pause I was to speak instantly. We got along remarkably
well, for his soul was in his work, and I gave every spark of
intelligence I had in me to the effort to satisfy him; so by the fifth
or sixth performance we both felt less anxiety about the catching of our
cues than we had at first. On the night I speak of, some one on
Salvini's side of the stage greatly disturbed him by loud whispering in
the entrance. He was nervous and excitable, the annoyance (of which I