“I comprehend. The poorest may seem to be the richest.” “Hold,” said Adéonne, on reaching the Rue Favart. “Do you see that little window, the third of the first story, above the _entresol_? That is the window of my _loge_.” “I know it.” “Behold, my dear Eusebe, the palace of your beloved,” said Adéonne, opening the door of her _loge_. Her smile was checked, and her countenance wore a troubled expression, as she added, “This is the laboratory in which we _artistes_ prepare our beauty, our hearts, our bodies, to please the public, who think, after all, that we have neither beauty nor heart. It is a sad thought! I had resolved never to reveal to you the mysteries of our profession, but they said that you were not handsome. Come, let me embrace you: I have not loved you here yet.” Eusebe looked at Adéonne with surprise. He comprehended neither the incoherence of her words nor the cause of her agitation. At length he said,-- “Something strange affects you,--something that I do not comprehend.” “Leave this place, then. I did wrong to bring you here. It was vanity, I fear, that prompted me. I scent misfortune in the very air. We were so happy at home. Go, then, Eusebe, go, if you love me.” “I will do whatever you desire.” “I knew you would. I love you so dearly!--if you only knew how dearly! Jenny will make tea for you. You will read until my return. I will be home early.” A boldly trilled _roulade_ was heard just as Eusebe kissed the hand of Adéonne and bade her adieu. The cantatrice suddenly detained him, and said,-- “Since _you_ are there, Eusebe must remain. I have need of you, dearest. My heart sings false.” CHAPTER XXVIII. The “Opéra Comique” and the “Gymnase Dramatique” possess _foyers_ of which the prudery has become proverbial. The life of the vocalist is one of protracted labor, rewarded, however, in a very liberal style. The comparative prudence of lyric _artistes_ can be easily explained. They have little leisure, and a great deal of money to spend. This is why cantatrices more frequently contract honorable alliances with men of position than other women of the theatrical world. A faulty construction adds to the dulness of the evenings spent at the “Opéra Comique.” The _foyer des artistes_ is small, gloomy, and inconvenient. The visitors are often forced to talk to themselves,--which is a wearisome occupation. Still, notwithstanding the seeming dulness of this narrow place, it is very rare that the evening passes without some incident of an interesting character occurring there, owing to the peculiarities of the company assembled. In this atmosphere, so novel to him, Eusebe learned more in one month than he could have learned elsewhere in ten years.