Her face, which was now
uncovered, more than fulfilled the promise of her eyes, being indeed as
arch and engaging a countenance as ever flashed distraction across the
foot-lights. She was greeted with an outburst of delight that cost her a
sour glance from the prima amorosa, and presently the theatre was
ringing with her improvised sallies, uttered in the gay staccato of the
Venetian dialect. There was to Odo something perplexingly familiar in
this accent and in the light darting movements of her little head framed
in a Columbine's ruff, with a red rose thrust behind one ear; but after
a rapid glance about the house she appeared to take no notice of him and
he began to think it must be to some one else he owed his invitation.
From this question he was soon diverted by his increasing enjoyment of
the play. It was not indeed a remarkable example of its kind, being
crudely enough put together, and turning on a series of ridiculous and
disconnected incidents; but to a taste formed on the frigid elegancies
of Metastasio and the French stage there was something refreshing in
this plunge into the coarse homely atmosphere of the old popular
theatre. Extemporaneous comedies were no longer played in the great
cities, and Odo listened with surprise to the swift thrust and parry,
the inexhaustible flow of jest and repartee, the readiness with which
the comedians caught up each other's leads, like dancers whirling
without a false step through the mazes of some rapid contradance.
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