A hum of conversation in the house drowned out the sound, the
auditorium was flooded with electric light, men moved from their
places to rest in the interlude, and standing at the curtains Brand
looked down out upon the golden tiers garlanded with roses, and
throngs of women waving their slow fans.
Outside in the streets men were shouting, but he could not hear what
they cried, amid the gusts and eddies of the gathering uproar. A
crowd had surrounded the building now, turbulent, yelling. Gentlemen
from the audience who had strolled out to the stairways returned to
the tiers with blanched faces. Some bade their women put on their
cloaks to leave, many brought newspapers, and were assailed with
questioning. The tidings of the night spread on from tier to tier,
an orator began shouting from the gallery and had to be removed; even
in the grand tier a woman screamed.
In haste the management had the lights turned down while organ,
orchestra and chorus took up the measure of the oratorio, but not
even the seven Hells of Dante could still that audience, or drown the
sullen, vengeful roar of the crowds outside. Many who tried to leave
the theatre came back unable to face the tumult of the streets. The
management began cautiously to withdraw the audience by way of the
iron doors and the stage, while the performance dragged on amid
tumult and growing panic.