The second part of the charade takes place. It is still an Eastern

scene. Hassan, in another dress, is in an attitude by Zuleikah, who is

perfectly reconciled to him. The Kislar Aga has become a peaceful black

slave. It is sunrise on the desert, and the Turks turn their heads

eastwards and bow to the sand. As there are no dromedaries at hand,

the band facetiously plays "The Camels are coming." An enormous

Egyptian head figures in the scene. It is a musical one--and, to the

surprise of the oriental travellers, sings a comic song, composed by

Mr. Wagg. The Eastern voyagers go off dancing, like Papageno and the

Moorish King in The Magic Flute. "Last two syllables," roars the head.

The last act opens. It is a Grecian tent this time. A tall and

stalwart man reposes on a couch there. Above him hang his helmet and

shield. There is no need for them now. Ilium is down. Iphigenia is

slain. Cassandra is a prisoner in his outer halls. The king of men (it

is Colonel Crawley, who, indeed, has no notion about the sack of Ilium

or the conquest of Cassandra), the anax andron is asleep in his chamber

at Argos. A lamp casts the broad shadow of the sleeping warrior

flickering on the wall--the sword and shield of Troy glitter in its

light. The band plays the awful music of Don Juan, before the statue

enters.

Aegisthus steals in pale and on tiptoe. What is that ghastly face

looking out balefully after him from behind the arras? He raises his

dagger to strike the sleeper, who turns in his bed, and opens his broad

chest as if for the blow. He cannot strike the noble slumbering

chieftain. Clytemnestra glides swiftly into the room like an

apparition--her arms are bare and white--her tawny hair floats down her

shoulders--her face is deadly pale--and her eyes are lighted up with a

smile so ghastly that people quake as they look at her.

A tremor ran through the room. "Good God!" somebody said, "it's Mrs.

Rawdon Crawley."

Scornfully she snatches the dagger out of Aegisthus's hand and advances

to the bed. You see it shining over her head in the glimmer of the

lamp, and--and the lamp goes out, with a groan, and all is dark.

The darkness and the scene frightened people. Rebecca performed her

part so well, and with such ghastly truth, that the spectators were all

dumb, until, with a burst, all the lamps of the hall blazed out again,

when everybody began to shout applause. "Brava! brava!" old Steyne's

strident voice was heard roaring over all the rest. "By--, she'd do it

too," he said between his teeth. The performers were called by the

whole house, which sounded with cries of "Manager! Clytemnestra!"

Agamemnon could not be got to show in his classical tunic, but stood in

the background with Aegisthus and others of the performers of the

little play. Mr. Bedwin Sands led on Zuleikah and Clytemnestra. A

great personage insisted on being presented to the charming

Clytemnestra. "Heigh ha? Run him through the body. Marry somebody

else, hay?" was the apposite remark made by His Royal Highness.




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