I had a headache afterwards for twenty-four hours.

Even Robert, who gives himself out for _blase_ on dramatic matters, couldn't keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks.
The exquisite acting, the too literal truth to nature everywhere, was _exasperating_--there was something profane in such familiar handling of life and death.

Art has no business with real graveclothes when she wants tragic drapery--has she?
It was too much altogether like a bull fight.

There's a caricature at the shop windows of the effect produced, the pit protecting itself with multitudinous umbrellas from the tears of the boxes.

This play is by Alexandre Dumas _fils_--and is worthy by its talent of Alexandre Dumas _pere_.
Only that once have I been in a Parisian theatre.