It was an opera night, and the house was crowded to excess; but with some little management, I obtained a place in a box near the stage. The piece was "Les Franc Macons," which was certainly admirably supported, and drew down from the audience--no mean one as judges of music--the loudest thunders of applause. As for me, the house was a great a curiosity as the opera. The novel spectacle of some hundred (thousand?) people relishing and appreciating the highest order of musical genius, was something totally new and surprising to me. The curtain at length fell upon the fifth act. And now the deafening roar of acclamation was tremendous; and amid a perfect shout of enthusiasm, the manager announced the opera for the ensuing evening. Scarcely had this subsided, when a buzz ran through the house; at first subdued, but gradually getting louder--extending from the boxes to the balcone--from the balcone to the parterre--and finally even to the galleries. Groups of people stood upon the benches, and looked fixedly in one part of the house; then changed and regarded as eagerly the other. What can this mean? thought I. Is the theatre on fire? Something surely has gone wrong! In this conviction, with the contagious spirit of curiosity, I mounted upon a seat, and looked about me on every side; but unable still to catch the object which seemed to attract the rest, as I was about to resume my place, my eyes fell upon a well-known face, which in an instant I remembered was that of my late fellow-traveller the courier. Anxious to avoid his recognition, I attempted to get down at once; but before I could accomplish it, the wretch had perceived and recognised me; and I saw him, even with a gesture of delight, point me out to some friends beside him. "Confound the fellow," muttered I; "I must leave this at once, or I shall be involved in some trouble."