The
audience was brilliant; indeed, though I had been an ardent
first-nighter for a year or two in my callow youth, I think I
have never seen such a representation of fashion and genius in
America, except at the opera.
Billy and I sat in the orchestra--about the twelfth row--and half
the faces in sight were well known to me. Whether Le Mire could
dance or not, she most assuredly was, or had, a good press-agent.
We were soon to receive an exemplification of at least a portion
of the reputation that had preceded her.
Many were the angry adjectives heaped on the head of the dancer
on that memorable evening. Mrs. Frederick Marston, I remember,
called her an insolent hussy; but then Mrs. Frederick Marston was
never original. Others: rash, impudent, saucy, impertinent; in
each instance accompanied by threats.
Indeed, it is little wonder if those people of fashion and wealth
and position were indignant and sore. For they had dressed and
dined hastily and come all the way down-town to see Le Mire; they
waited for her for two hours and a half in stuffy theater seats,
and Le Mire did not appear.
The announcement was finally made by the manager of the theater
at a little before eleven-o'clock.
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