“Habeas corpus be d——­d!” said the officer, with an irreverent disrespect to the palladium.  “If you are not more civil, sir, I will call the police, of whom we have plenty.  You say you want to go out; you are keeping everybody in.”

And, in fact, at that moment the clear voice of the mayor was announcing that they would not go on until there was perfect quiet; and I felt that I was imprisoning all these people, not they me.

“Child of the Public,” said my mourning genius, “are you better than other men?” So I sneaked back to seat No. 3,671, amid the contemptuous and reproachful looks and sneers of my more respectable neighbors, who had sat where they were told to do.  We must be through in a moment, and perhaps Fausta would be late also.  If only the Astor would keep open after sunset!  How often have I wished that since, and for less reasons!

Silence thus restored, Mr. A——­, the mayor, led forward his little daughter, blindfolded her, and bade her put her hand into a green box, from which she drew out a green ticket.  He took it from her, and read, in his clear voice again, “No. 2,973!” By this time we all knew where the “two thousands” sat.  Then “nine hundreds” were not far from the front, so that it was not far that that frightened girl, dressed all in black, and heavily veiled, had to walk, who answered to this call.  Mr. A——­ met her, helped her up the stair upon the stage, took from her her ticket, and read, “Jerusha Stillingfleet, of Yellow Springs, who, at her death, as it seems, transferred this right to the bearer.”

The disappointed nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine joined in a rapturous cheer, each man and woman, to show that he or she was not disappointed.  The bearer spoke with Mr. Burrham, in answer to his questions, and, with a good deal of ostentation, he opened a check-book, filled a check and passed it to her, she signing a receipt as she took it, and transferring to him her ticket.  So far, in dumb show, all was well.  What was more to my purpose, it was rapid, for we should have been done in five minutes more, but that some devil tempted some loafer in a gallery to cry, “Face! face!” Miss Stillingfleet’s legatee was still heavily veiled.

In one horrid minute that whole amphitheatre, which seemed to me then more cruel than the Coliseum ever was, rang out with a cry of “Face, face!” I tried the counter-cry of “Shame! shame!” but I was in disgrace among my neighbors, and a counter-cry never takes as its prototype does, either.  At first, on the stage, they affected not to hear or understand; then there was a courtly whisper between Mr. Burrham and the lady; but Mr. A——­, the mayor, and the respectable gentlemen, instantly interfered.  It was evident that she would not unveil, and that they were prepared to indorse her refusal.  In a moment more she courtesied to the assembly; the mayor gave her his arm, and led her out through a side-door.

O, the yell that rose up then!  The whole assembly stood up, and, as if they had lost some vested right, hooted and shrieked, “Back! back!  Face! face!” Mr. A——­ returned, made as if he would speak, came forward to the very front, and got a moment’s silence.