“But it is not he alone who addresses me in this manner. Everybody does the same, from the _régisseur_ to the machinist. If this goes on, it will be necessary for me to put on an old shawl and bonnet, and pass for the mother of the actress, like Madame Baudry. I will become Madame Adéonne _la mère_.” Adéonne was silent. She did not understand the sensitive nature of Eusebe, and could not prolong the discussion. She finally adopted the course usually taken by women when they are embarrassed: she became sad and tender. At length she replied, in a bitter tone,-- “A shawl and a bonnet will not suffice for that: nothing can replace the mother one has lost.” Eusebe, hearing this cry of the heart, repented of his harshness. Hardly had he entered the apartment of Adéonne, when he threw himself upon his knees before her. “Forgive me, my darling. I have done wrong, and shown a want of heart, in awakening a sad remembrance.” “No, no,” said Adéonne, untying the ribands of her bonnet: “I said that as I might have said any thing else. My mother never had any claim upon my remembrance.” On the following morning, at breakfast, Adéonne saw that Eusebe was sad and gloomy. “My darling,” said she, “we tire of every thing,--even of happiness. I think it is time for you to seek some diversion.” “I think so too,” responded Eusebe. “This evening I will go and dine with Clamens.” CHAPTER XXXI. Daniel Clamens was a Jew, with a weakness for literature. He was an intelligent fellow, who knew how to manage his affairs with tact, so that, though he possessed neither fortune nor talent, he generally commanded the means of subsistence. Clamens had three brothers,--one a composer, another a sculptor, and a third a painter: he himself was a dramatist. Of the four, Daniel had the least talent. He had never achieved any remarkable success. Still, he was very well known,--owing, in a great measure, to the reputation of his brothers. Eusebe had made the acquaintance of Clamens at the theatre, and was quite intimate with him. Daniel was anxious to get Adéonne to personate a character in one of his productions, and had cultivated her provincial lover with that object in view. He had often invited Eusebe to dine with him, but the invitation had never been accepted. When the dramatist saw the lover of Adéonne actually enter, he uttered an exclamation of joy. “And do I behold you at last? You do not know how anxious I have been to see you. Now that you have come, there shall be no peace until you promise to come again.” “I promise,” answered Eusebe. “I will come often. I have need of some diversion.” “You say that, but you will not do it. For the rest, I understand that you keep your nest. You ought to be very happy.” “I was.” “Bah! that has not ended?” “Not quite.” “Has there been a quarrel?” inquired Daniel, quite anxiously.