As for Zanin's propaganda, I doubt if it cut in very deeply. Critics and public alike appeared to take it simply as a novelty, a fresh sensation as they had taken Reinhardt and the Russian Ballet. The primitiveness of it reached them no more clearly than the primitiveness of Wagner's operas reached them. The clergy stormed a bit, of course; but not because they comprehended the deeply implied anarchistic motive. They were concerned over Zanin's rather unbending attitude toward a certain book. And Zanin; delighted, fed columns of controversy to the afternoon papers, wrote open letters to eminent divines, and in other ways turned the protest into a huge success of publicity. Then a professional objector, apparently ignorant of the existence of an enticing and corrupting “Revue” across the street, haled Zanin, Silverstone and two of the Interstellar people into court on the ground that the costuming was improper. This matter Zanin, after the newspapers had done it full justice, compromised by cutting out twenty-two feet of pictures and one printed explanation which seemed to the professional objector to justify child-birth out of wedlock. No, beyond these brief attacks of virtue, I have never been able to see that the great city did not pulse along about as before. Broadway and Forty-second Street held their usual evening throngs. The saloons and hotel bars took in fortunes from the flushed, sometimes furtive men that poured out between the acts of that “Revue.” Gamblers gambled, robbers robbed; the glittering hotels thrived; men bought and sold and centered on the ugly business of politics and bargained with the nameless girls that lurked in shadowy doorways--but furtively, of course, with an eye to respectability. And in parsonages on side streets clergymen studied the precise attitude of Paul toward the doctrine of Free Will or wrote (for Sunday evening) of the beautiful day that was close at hand when all men should sing in harmony and not discord, with harp accompaniment.... No, I think, despite Zanin's purpose, despite Sue's blazing faith, what really triumphed was Peter Mann's instinct for a good story. It was the story that held them, and the real beauty of the pictures, and the acting and personal charm and sincerity of Sue Wilde. All this, or something, held Sue herself. For it did catch her. She had thought she knew everything about the Nature film; whereas she knew everything about it but the Nature film. At first, naturally, her self-consciousness clung a little; then it fell away. She sat with an elbow on the arm of the seat, chin on hand, never once taking her eyes from the screen, hardly aware of the dense audience about her, no more than barely hearing the skilfully selected Russian music of the hidden, very competent orchestra.