The leader of the chorus, costumed as the captain of the watch, leaned over the dead baritone and sang, "_Il est mort, il est mort. Mon Dieu, ayez pitié de lui._" The soldiers of the watch were huddled together immediately back of him. They wore tin helmets, much too large, and green peplums, and repeated his words continually.
The chorus itself was made up of citizens of the town; it was in a semicircle at the back of the stage--the men on one side, the women on the other. They made all their gestures together and chanted without ceasing: "_O horreur, O mystére! Il est mort. Mon Dieu, ayez pitié de nous!_"
"_Jamais, jamais!_" echoed the tenor, striking his breast and pointing with his sword.
"_O mystére!_" chanted the chorus, while the basso struck his hand upon his sword hilt, growling "_Mon honneur et ma foi._"
The orchestra redoubled. The finale began; all the pieces of the orchestra, all the voices on the stage, commenced over again very loud. They all took a step forward, and the rhythm became more rapid, till it reached a climax where the prima donna's voice jumped to a C in alt, holding it long enough for the basso to thunder, "_Mon honneur et ma foi_" twice. Then they all struck the attitudes for the closing tableau and in one last burst of music sang all together, "_Mon Dieu, ayez pitié de moi_" and "_de lui_" and "_d'elle_" and "_de nous_." Then the orchestra closed with a long roll of the kettle-drums, and the prima donna fainted into the arms of her confidante. The curtain fell.
There was a roar of applause. The gallery whistled and stamped. Every one relaxed his or her position, drawing a long breath, looking about. There was a general stir; the lights in the great glass chandelier clicked and blazed up, and a murmur of conversation arose. The footlights were lowered and the orchestra left their places and disappeared underneath the stage, leaving the audience with the conviction that they had gone out after beer. All over the house one heard the shrill voices of boys crying out, "Op'ra books--books for the op'ra--words and music for the op'ra."
Throughout the boxes a great coming and going took place and an interchange of visits. The gentlemen out in the foyer stood about conversing in groups or walked up and down smoking cigarettes, often pausing in front of the big floral piece that was to be given to the prima donna at the end of the great scene in the fourth act.