“Come closer, Bartow. Come closer, dear Bartow! Do!” she urged, in a voice at first soft and coaxing, but that ended in a shrill cackle. “I will give you a good seat, Bartow--the best seat in the house--in the first row center. You can hear me better there than from a box. Come!” she cried, as he hesitated, her simpering giving place to a terrible frown. “Why do you stand there blinking at me like a fool? Do not rouse my wrath, Bartow! The wrath of Sobrinini is a terrible thing, as no one should know better than you.”