Roughing It eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 603 pages of information about Roughing It.

Roughing It eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 603 pages of information about Roughing It.

I ate nothing on the last of the three eventful days—­I only suffered.  I had advertised that on this third day the box-office would be opened for the sale of reserved seats.  I crept down to the theater at four in the afternoon to see if any sales had been made.  The ticket seller was gone, the box-office was locked up.  I had to swallow suddenly, or my heart would have got out.  “No sales,” I said to myself; “I might have known it.”  I thought of suicide, pretended illness, flight.  I thought of these things in earnest, for I was very miserable and scared.  But of course I had to drive them away, and prepare to meet my fate.  I could not wait for half-past seven—­I wanted to face the horror, and end it —­the feeling of many a man doomed to hang, no doubt.  I went down back streets at six o’clock, and entered the theatre by the back door.  I stumbled my way in the dark among the ranks of canvas scenery, and stood on the stage.  The house was gloomy and silent, and its emptiness depressing.  I went into the dark among the scenes again, and for an hour and a half gave myself up to the horrors, wholly unconscious of everything else.  Then I heard a murmur; it rose higher and higher, and ended in a crash, mingled with cheers.  It made my hair raise, it was so close to me, and so loud.

There was a pause, and then another; presently came a third, and before I well knew what I was about, I was in the middle of the stage, staring at a sea of faces, bewildered by the fierce glare of the lights, and quaking in every limb with a terror that seemed like to take my life away.  The house was full, aisles and all!

The tumult in my heart and brain and legs continued a full minute before I could gain any command over myself.  Then I recognized the charity and the friendliness in the faces before me, and little by little my fright melted away, and I began to talk Within three or four minutes I was comfortable, and even content.  My three chief allies, with three auxiliaries, were on hand, in the parquette, all sitting together, all armed with bludgeons, and all ready to make an onslaught upon the feeblest joke that might show its head.  And whenever a joke did fall, their bludgeons came down and their faces seemed to split from ear to ear.

Sawyer, whose hearty countenance was seen looming redly in the centre of the second circle, took it up, and the house was carried handsomely.  Inferior jokes never fared so royally before.  Presently I delivered a bit of serious matter with impressive unction (it was my pet), and the audience listened with an absorbed hush that gratified me more than any applause; and as I dropped the last word of the clause, I happened to turn and catch Mrs.—­’s intent and waiting eye; my conversation with her flashed upon me, and in spite of all I could do I smiled.  She took it for the signal, and promptly delivered a mellow laugh that touched off the whole audience; and the explosion that followed was the triumph of the evening.  I thought that that honest man Sawyer would choke himself; and as for the bludgeons, they performed like pile-drivers.  But my poor little morsel of pathos was ruined.  It was taken in good faith as an intentional joke, and the prize one of the entertainment, and I wisely let it go at that.

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Roughing It from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.