(_People are heard by the entire audience entering the little ante-room behind. The men's chorus on the stage drowns the sound of artificial laughter. The curtains part, and_ Mr. Easterfelt _is joined by_ Mrs. Sternwall, Mrs. Morley, Miss Beebar, and Mr. Carn.) MRS. MORLEY. (_Seriously._) What a pity we've missed so much. (_There are general greetings, whispered pleasantly. Each person, without exception, glances first all about the house, and then turns his eyes slowly toward stage. Mrs. Sternwall sits in_ _the corner, facing the audience with three-quarters face, as the photographers express it, one-quarter toward the singers and_ mise en scene. _She beckons Easterfelt to sit behind her. The others fall into the other places more or less as they happen, the women in front looking lovely, as each one is well aware, with her beautiful white neck, her jewels, and her charming coif. The music continues._) MRS. MORLEY. (_Suddenly noticing that Mr. Sternwall is not with them._) But where is Mr. Sternwall? MRS. STERNWALL. Oh, Henry always goes across to Hammerstein's Olympia during the acts, but he will join us for each of the entre-acts. (_She takes up her opera glass, and examines the house minutely._) MISS BEEBAR. What is the opera? MRS. MORLEY. Tristan and Isolde. I don't care for the new woman; do you? Somehow she hasn't the soul for Wagner. She sings well enough, mechanically, but she doesn't feel enough. MISS BEEBAR. Precisely. That's a wig of course; isn't it? And what an ugly one! MRS. STERNWALL. (_Low to Mr. Easterfelt._) Come to-morrow at four. He has taken to leaving the office much earlier the last few days. (_Owing to a sudden pause in the music, her voice has been heard quite distinctly. She is embarrassed for a moment, to cover which she leans over toward Mrs. Morley and Miss Beebar._) I wish Eames sang in this, she wears such good clothes. MR. CARN. What's that about Eames? MISS BEEBAR. I thought Eames' name would wake you up! MR. CARN. I was listening to the music. MISS BEEBAR. Don't be absurd; you know you never come to hear the opera, except when I am going. MR. CARN. Or when Eames sings. MISS BEEBAR. Ah! you acknowledge it! You brute! MR. CARN. It's her arms, and her eyes, and her hair. You must acknowledge she's very beautiful---- MISS BEEBAR. (_Interrupts._) For heaven's sake stop; you bore me to death. Besides you must listen. It isn't the thing to talk at the opera any more. (_Isolde gives Tristan the cup with the love potion in it._) MRS. STERNWALL. (_In a very low voice to Mr. Easterfelt._) Just before the curtain falls change your position quietly. Go near Miss Beebar and Mrs. Morley, on account of Henry. He will come to the box the minute the lights are turned up. MISS BEEBAR. (_Very low to Mr. Carn._) I _hate_ Eames! MR. CARN. No. (_He kisses, without sound, her bare shoulders._)