I made a bare pretence of watching the stage every five minutes, and
saying a few words now and again to Irene or her mother; but my real
attention was all the time furtively directed to the girl beside me. Not
that I was taken with her; quite the contrary; she distinctly repelled
me; but she seemed to exercise over me for all that the same strange and
indescribable fascination which is often possessed by some horrible
sight that you would give worlds to avoid, and yet cannot for your life
help intently gazing upon. Between the third and fourth acts Irene whispered to me again, "I can't
keep my eyes off her, Harry. She's wonderfully beautiful. Confess now:
aren't you over head and ears in love with her?" I looked at Irene's sweet little peaceful English face, and I answered
truthfully, "No, Irene. If I wanted to fall in love, I should find
somebody----"

"Nonsense, Harry," Irene cried, blushing a little, and holding up her
fan before her nervously. "She's a thousand times prettier and handsomer
in every way----"

"Prettier?" "Than I am." At that moment the curtain rose, and Marie Leroux came forward once more
with her imperial diadem, in the very act of defying and bearding the
enraged emperor. It was a great scene. The whole theatre hung upon her words for twenty
minutes. The effect was sublime. Even I myself felt my interest aroused
at last in the consummate spectacle. I glanced round to observe my
neighbour. She sat there, straining her gaze upon the stage, and heaving
her bosom with suppressed emotion. In a second, the spell was broken
again. Beside that tall, dark southern girl, in her queenly beauty, with
her flashing eyes and quivering nostrils, intensely moved by the passion
of the play, the mere actress who mouthed and gesticulated before us by
the footlights was as sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. My companion
in the stalls was the genuine Faustine: the player on the stage was but
a false pretender. As I looked a cry arose from the wings: a hushed cry at first, a buzz or
hum; rising louder and ever louder still, as a red glare burst upon the
scene from the background. Then a voice from the side boxes rang out
suddenly above the confused murmur and the ranting of the actors "Fire! Fire!" Almost before I knew what had happened, the mob in the stalls, like the
mob in the gallery, was surging and swaying wildly towards the exits, in
a general struggle for life of the fierce old selfish barbaric pattern. Dense clouds of smoke rolled from the stage and filled the length and
breadth of the auditorium; tongues of flame licked up the pasteboard
scenes and hangings, like so much paper; women screamed, and fought, and
fainted; men pushed one another aside and hustled and elbowed, in one
wild effort to make for the doors at all hazards to the lives of their
neighbours. Never before had I so vividly realized how near the savage
lies to the surface in our best and highest civilized society. I had to
realize it still more vividly and more terribly afterwards. One person alone I observed calm and erect, resisting quietly all pushes
and thrusts, and moving with slow deliberateness to the door, as if
wholly unconcerned at the universal noise and hubbub and tumult around
her. It was the dark girl from the stalls beside me. For myself, my one thought of course was for poor Irene and Mrs. Latham. Fortunately, I am a strong and well-built man, and by keeping the two
women in front of me, and thrusting hard with my elbows on either side
to keep off the crush, I managed to make a tolerably clear road for them
down the central row of stalls and out on to the big external staircase. The dark girl, now separated from her father and sister by the rush, was
close in front of me. By a careful side movement, I managed to include
her also in our party. She looked up to me gratefully with her big eyes,
and her mouth broke into a charming smile as she turned and said in
perfect English, "I am much obliged to you for your kind assistance." Irene's cheek was pale as death; but through the strange young lady's
olive skin the bright blood still burned and glowed amid that frantic
panic as calmly as ever. We had reached the bottom of the steps, and were out into the front,
when suddenly the strange lady turned around and gave a little cry of
disappointment. "Mes lorgnettes! Mes lorgnettes!" she said. Then
glancing round carelessly to me she went on in English: "I have left my
opera-glasses inside on the vacant seat. I think, if you will excuse me,
I'll go back and fetch them." "It's impossible," I cried, "my dear madam. Utterly impossible. They'll
crush you underfoot. They'll tear you to pieces." She smiled a strange haughty smile, as if amused at the idea, but merely
answered, "I think not," and tried to pass lightly by me. I held her arm. I didn't know then she was as strong as I was. "Don't
go," I said imploringly. "They will certainly kill you. It would be
impossible to stem a mob like this one." She smiled again, and darted back in silence before I could stop her. Irene and Mrs. Latham were now fairly out of all danger. "Go on, Irene,"
I said loosing her arm. "Policeman, get these ladies safely out. I must
go back and take care of that mad woman." "Go, go quick," Irene cried. "If you don't go, she'll be killed, Harry." I rushed back wildly after her, battling as well as I was able against
the frantic rush of panic-stricken fugitives, and found my companion
struggling still upon the main staircase. I helped her to make her way
back into the burning theatre, and she ran lightly through the dense
smoke to the stall she had occupied, and took the opera-glasses from the
vacant place. Then she turned to me once more with a smile of triumph. "People lose their heads so," she said, "in all these crushes. I came
back on purpose to show papa I wasn't going to be frightened into
leaving my opera-glasses. I should have been eternally ashamed of myself
if I had come away and left them in the theatre." "Quick," I answered, gasping for breath. "If you don't make haste, we
shall be choked to death, or the roof itself will fall in upon us and
crush us!" She looked up where I pointed with a hasty glance, and then made her way
back again quickly to the staircase. As we hurried out, the timbers of
the stage were beginning to fall in, and the engines were already
playing fiercely upon the raging flames. I took her hand and almost
dragged her out into the open. When we reached the Strand, we were both
wet through, and terribly blackened with smoke and ashes. Pushing our
way through the dense crowd, I called a hansom. She jumped in lightly. "Thank you so much," she said, quite carelessly. "Will you kindly tell
him where to drive? Twenty-seven, Seymour Crescent." "I'll see you home, if you'll allow me," I answered. "Under these
circumstances, I trust I may be permitted." "As you like," she said, smiling enchantingly. "You are very good. My
name is Césarine Vivian.