We worked away hard that day in rehearsals, fitting of dresses, stage making, quarrelling, and in a few other things which are indispensable on such occasions. In the evening the whole building was crammed full of English people; there were even some ladies. Our own people had all back seats. Everything went well. Our orchestra consisted of three violinists. There were scores of musicians among us, but these were the best, and were used to play together. Then the blanket which served for a curtain went up, and we began to act our parts. Everything went well excepting that Pierrot, whose face was chalked over, began to perspire very much, and the chalk came off; but that was nothing. It was reserved for me to spoil the whole proceeding. It came about this way: the fellow who played Columbine was a big, flabby-looking chap, and he looked very nasty indeed in women's clothes. As it was my part to dance about Columbine and make love to him--or her--as you please, I had also to snatch kisses from him about a dozen times during the evening, but of course I understood he knew sufficient of acting not to inflict the punishment of real kissing on _me_. The first time, however, when my turn came, he turned his face full upon me, and the osculation could be heard all over the room. This happened two or three times, and every time people laughed and applauded; but it made me regularly wild. So as he tried it again I tore the mask off my face before I had time to think, and cried: "Look here, if you do that again I won't play." That brought the house down with great applause and homeric laughter; but I got so upset over it that it was impossible for me to go on the stage again, and the play came to an abrupt end.