Eusebe returned directly to his lodgings. For a long time he sat in his room, his elbows resting on the table, and his face buried in his hands. His heart had taken possession of his head, and he did not try to account for what was passing within him. Although he had no light, he closed his eyes, and the cantatrice appeared before him, encircled by a resplendent halo. He threw himself on his bed without undressing, but sleep he could not. One by one he took off his garments, throwing some one way and some another. He listened to the clock every time it struck even the fractions of the hour, and every quarter seemed to him a century. He breathed heavily, and a cold perspiration covered his brow, while he rolled about on his couch, grating his teeth, and occasionally muttering,-- “Mon Dieu! will the day never dawn?” And then he found relief in tears. CHAPTER XVIII. The day at last dawned; but Eusebe, pale and his eyes sunken, slept soundly. At a late hour, a noise in the street awoke him. He rose up, and, looking wildly around the room, thought he had been dreaming. But the incidents of the previous evening, and the sleepless hours of the night, were soon clear to his recollection. “No, it was not a dream,” said he. “I was never at the same time so happy and so miserable: this woman, I see her still. Why does she exert such an influence over me? Last night I tried to banish her from my thoughts; but I was wrong, for I am never so happy as when I am thinking of her. I will see her again this evening, and to-morrow, and--forever.” The day wore slowly away. The doors of the theatre were scarcely opened, when Eusebe was installed in the first row of the orchestra-chairs, where he awaited the commencement of the play. But the patience of the poor provincial was destined to go unrecompensed. That evening they played “Zampa; or, The Marble Bride;” and it was in vain that he watched for the angelic creature who was the subject of his thoughts. He returned home sadly disappointed, but determined to retrace his steps on the following evening. The next day he was sure of realizing his hopes. Twenty times he stopped to read the large posters of the theatre. He had bought the programme, and long before the doors of the theatre opened, seated in a neighboring café, he read it for the hundredth time:-- =THE BLACK DOMINO.= Comic Opera, In Three Acts. SCRIBE, AUBER. Mademoiselle ADÉONNE will continue her _débuts_ in the _rôle_ of ANGÈLE. “What a pretty name!” said Eusebe to himself. “Adéonne! How euphonious! how it resembles her! Adéonne! She is the only one on earth who is worthy to bear it.”