I left the balcony and returned to the corridor; I asked the box opener if the ladies in such a number had said that they expected anyone. "No, monsieur; they didn't say anything about it. Anyway, the box is full; there's four of 'em." "I know that. By the way, please show me their ticket." The box opener showed me the coupon: it was the one I had sent. I was completely _done!_ I returned, in an execrable humor, to the balcony, but this time nearer the box. From time to time, I glanced at that assemblage of the fair sex, every member of which, with one exception, was exceedingly ugly. But it seemed to me that they had noticed me. Perhaps they fancied that they had made a conquest of me. In any event, there was but one of them who could reasonably imagine that. Soon I began to think that they whispered and laughed together as they looked at me. Perhaps it was my imagination. But, no matter! I had had enough. She for whom I had come was not there; why should I remain? I left the theatre. I was weak enough to pace back and forth on the boulevard, in front of the door, hoping that she might come. But the clock struck ten. I decided to go away. I went into a café and read the papers, and about half-past eleven I went home, depressed and shame-faced. Really, that girl was most seductive, and I had fancied that there would be no obstacle to our liaison. My concierge stopped me. "A young woman has been here asking for you, monsieur. That is to say, she didn't ask for you, but for that queer name monsieur told me." My heart expanded; I became as cheerful as I was melancholy a moment before. "Ah! so the young woman came, did she? A tall, dark girl, with a wide-awake look?" "Yes, monsieur; that describes her." "What time did she come?" "About half-past eight." "And she asked if Monsieur--the author whose name I gave you--lived here?" "Yes, monsieur." "And you answered?" "I answered _yes_, as you told me to. I told her that you lived on the second floor, but that you had gone out." "And then?" "Then she said she'd come about noon to-morrow, and told me to tell you." "She will come to-morrow?" "Yes, monsieur, about noon." "Very good! very good!" I was beside myself with joy. I rewarded my concierge, then ran lightly up my two flights. Pomponne opened the door. I went in singing, and said to him: "To-morrow, Pomponne, about noon, a young grisette will come here." "Ah! a grisette--a new one?" "What do you mean by that?" "I mean one who has not called on monsieur before." "Why, yes, of course, you idiot! She will ask for----" "_Pardi!_ she will ask for monsieur." "Well, no; that is just what she won't do." "Will she ask for me, then? But I don't expect anybody, monsieur!" "Oh! how you annoy me with your reflections, Pomponne! She will ask for---- But, no, you would make some infernal blunder; I prefer not to have you here. I will send you on some errand, and let her in myself when she comes."