laughter, I next swept the stage. Coming to the close-drawn curtains, I
saw--heavens! No wonder the people laughed. The murdered Desdemona had
risen, was evidently sitting on the side of the bed; for beneath the
curtains her dangling feet alone were plainly seen, kicking cheerfully
back and forth. Such utterly unconscious feet they were that I think the
audience would not have laughed again had they kept still; but all at
once they began a "heel-and-toe step," and people rocked back and forth,
trying to suppress their merriment. And then--oh, Piamonti!--swiftly the
toe of the right foot went to the back of the left ankle and scratched
vigorously. Restraint was ended, every one let go and laughed and
laughed. From the box I saw in the entrance the outspread fingers, the
hoisted shoulders, the despairingly shaken heads of the Italian actors,
who could find no cause for the uproar. Salvini behaved perfectly in
that, disturbed, distressed, he showed no sign of anger, but maintained
his dignity through all, even when in withdrawing the curtains and
disclosing Desdemona dead once more the incomprehensible laughter again
broke out. But late as it was and short the time left him, he got the
house in hand again, again wove his charm, and sent the people away sick
and shuddering over his too real self-murder.

As I was leaving the box I met one connected with the management of the
theatre, who, furious over the _faux pas_, was roughly denouncing the
actress, whom he blamed entirely, and I took it upon myself to suggest
that he pour a vial or two of his wrath upon the heads of his own
property man and the stage manager, who had grossly neglected their duty
in failing to provide curtains of the proper length. And I chuckled with
satisfaction as I saw him plunge behind the scenes, calling angrily upon
some invisible Jim to come forth. I had acted as a sort of lightning-rod
for a sister actress.