My little friend had a free pass all over the house.

I had not been in it for years.

In the old days I had always seen the stage from a great height, craning over people's heads in a sultry twilight; now I saw it on a level, seated at my ease.

I had only the power of the Press to thank for the change.
"Come here as often as I can," my companion said; "can't do without music when it's to be had." Indeed he had the love of his race for it.
It seemed to soften him, to change his nature, as he sat silent by my side.
But the closing notes of each scene found him out in the cool of the corridors, talking, and being talked to by anyone that would vouchsafe him a word.
"Pick up a lot here," he explained.
After the finale we leaned over one of the side balconies to watch the crowd streaming down the marble staircases.

It is a scene that I never tire of.