I gazed at him
in mute surprise.
"My dear George, you are very unreasonable, indeed," said Mrs. Stanbury.
"What has Miriam done to deserve such a taunt? I never knew you to
behave in such an uncourteous way before."
"You must be crazy, George Gaston," added Laura Stanbury, sharply.
"Don't you know you are attracting attention toward our box. Be still
directly!"
"Oh no, it is only the magnificent Miss Monfort that every one is
staring at," he sneered. "The grown-up lady, the heroine, the heiress,
who lingers behind in the lobby, in order to get up little melodramas of
her own at the opera where such things are admissible, at the expense of
her lame escort!"
I turned to him calmly; I had not spoken before. "George," I said, "if
you say another word I shall go home alone, or burst into tears on the
spot, and disgrace myself and you, one or the other. I cannot bear
another word like this. I warn you, George Gaston!"
"Dear Miriam, forgive me; I am a fool I know," he said, as soon as he
could recover himself. "Lend me your handkerchief, Laura, mine has
mysteriously disappeared. There--Richard's himself again! (Sorra to
him!) He ought to have a bullet through his head for his pains" (_sotto
voce_).
This stroke of bathos brought about good-humor again, and soon our whole
attention was absorbed in that magical music which to this hour
electrifies me more than that of any other opera excepting "Norma.
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