“My duty,” replied the comédienne, “consists in not being hissed off the stage, and in being faithful to the man I love,--to you, my dear Eusebe.” “Then the duty of a woman is not like that of a man.” “The same precisely. Your duty is to love me as I love you.” Eusebe then left the house, and directed his steps towards the residence of Clamens. When he entered the apartment of the poet, he found him snoring in a most unpoetical manner. “My friend,” said Eusebe, “I ask pardon for disturbing you at so early an hour, but there is an important question I wish to have answered. Have the goodness to tell me what duty is.” Daniel opened his eyes with difficulty, stared at his provincial visitor for a moment, and then responded,-- “As for me, my duty is to get a piece in five acts accepted at the Théâtre Français.” So saying, he turned his face to the wall, and was soon snoring as vigorously as ever. Eusebe departed, and, not long afterwards, ascended to the attic apartment of Paul Buck, the painter. “Welcome!” exclaimed the artist, upon the entrance of his provincial friend. “Happiness has again taken up her abode under my roof. Gredinette has returned, and I have pardoned her. You are about to censure me,--to tell me that I have been weak. But could I do otherwise? My happiness is attached to the ribbons of her bonnet. Besides, why should not clemency, which is a virtue in kings, be exercised by artists?” “Who could blame you for seeking to be happy? Not I, assuredly. My visit here has quite another purpose.” “Ah?” “I wish you to tell me what duty is.” “Duty is the only thing that Gredinette ignores.” “Your definition is very vague.” “Duty! Oh, there are many interpretations of the word.” “Give me the best.” “In my opinion, the duty of a man is to smoke his pipe in peace under the eye of Heaven, and to do no wrong to his neighbor.” “Thank you,” was the sole response of Eusebe, as he abruptly quitted his artist friend. Once more in the street, the poor provincial strolled about, at the mercy of chance, more embarrassed and perplexed than ever. The sight of the old store of Lansade, before which he passed, reminded him of the honest merchant who had assisted him in an emergency of a more serious character. He decided to go at once to Lansade and ask his advice. On the way he met the stage-manager of the theatre, who saluted him politely. “M. Sainval,” said Eusebe, hurrying towards him, “you can perhaps save me a long walk.” “I am at your service.” “Please explain to me what you understand by duty.” “That is very easy, M. Martin. My duty is to first please the director, then the public.” “Thank you,” said Eusebe; and he continued his walk.