I went under protest; I had witnessed the butchery of so many dramas within these walls during my college days, that I knew what I must anticipate, I said. I had, as a matter of fact, always enjoyed the Opera House "shows," but I did not wish to acknowledge the harboring of such crude tastes to Charteris. In any event, at the conclusion of the second act,-- "By Jove!" said I, in a voice that shook a little. "She's a stunner!" I jolted out, as I proceeded to applaud, vigorously, with both hands and feet. "And who would have thought it! Good Lord, who would have thought it!" Charteris smiled, in that infernally patronizing way he had sometimes. "A beautiful woman, my dear boy,--an inordinately beautiful woman, in fact, but entirely lacking in temperament." "Temperament!" I scoffed; "what's temperament to two eyes like those? Why, they're as big as golf-balls! And her voice--why, a violin--a very superior violin--if it could talk, would have just such a voice as that woman has! Temperament! Oh, you make me ill! Why, man, just look at her!" I said, conclusively. Charteris looked, I presume. In any event, the Juliet of the evening stood before the curtain, smiling, bowing to right and left. The citizens of Fairhaven were applauding her with a certain conscientious industry, for they really found Romeo and Juliet a rather dull couple. The general opinion, however, was that Miss Montmorenci seemed an elegant actress, and in some interesting play, like _The Two Orphans_ or _Lady Audley's Secret_, would be well worth seeing. Upon those who had witnessed her initial performance, she had made a most favorable impression in _The Lady of Lyons_; while at the Tuesday matinee, as Lady Isabel in _East Lynne_, she had wrung the souls of her hearers, and had brought forth every handkerchief in the house. Moreover, she was very good-looking,--quite the lady, some said; and, after all, one cannot expect everything for twenty-five cents; considering which circumstances, Fairhaven applauded with temperate ardor, and made due allowance for Shakespeare as being a classic, and, therefore, of course, commendable, but not necessarily interesting. 5 "Well?" I queried, when she had vanished. I was speaking under cover of the orchestra,--a courtesy title accorded a very ancient and very feeble piano. "Well, and what do you think of her--of her looks, I means? Who cares for temperament in a woman!" Charteris assumed a virtuous expression. "I don't dare tell you," said he; "you forget I am a married man."