The young woman seemed to me even prettier than the night before. Her simpler gown and headdress added to her charms. She did not see me, so I was able to scrutinize her at my leisure. There was a seat in a box near theirs; should I take it? No, that would be showing my desire to speak to them too plainly. The performance had begun. They did not see me, although I had drawn nearer to them. Madame Giraud was entirely engrossed by her figure. I was sure that she was suffocating. She did not know enough to look in my direction. Someone opened the door of their box,--Giraud, no doubt. No, it was a young man; he saluted the ladies and Mademoiselle Dumeillan smiled upon him; she talked and laughed with him! It was well worth while for me to go there to see that! Mon Dieu! how stupid a man can be! I was jealous, and all on account of a person whom I hardly knew, and to whom I had not said a word of love. Was not that young woman at liberty to have a lover, ten lovers indeed, if she chose? I blushed at my folly, and to prove to myself that she was absolutely indifferent to me, I went at once to the box next to hers, for I did not see why the presence of those ladies, who were almost strangers to me, should prevent me from talking with Madame Giraud, whose dress I had fastened that morning. I entered the box. I did not look at Mademoiselle Eugénie; indeed, I pretended not to see the ladies. But in a moment Madame Giraud called to me: “Good-evening, Monsieur Blémont. How kind of you to come to see us! So you remembered that I said that I was coming here to-night with these ladies?” The devil take Madame Giraud with her memory! I replied very deliberately: “No, madame, I did not know, I had no idea--but I agreed to meet somebody here; that is why I came.” Then I bowed coldly to Madame Dumeillan and her daughter, after which I turned and looked at the audience. But Madame Giraud soon began again to talk to me; she was inclined to overwhelm me with marks of friendliness since I had succeeded in fastening her dress. I pretended to listen to Madame Giraud, but I had no idea of what she was saying. I was listening to the young man who was talking to Mademoiselle Eugénie. His remarks were very vague; he had nothing particular to say to her, and talked about nothing but the play. I felt that my ill humor was vanishing. I turned toward the ladies and joined in the conversation, but I did not rest my eyes on Mademoiselle Eugénie. I should have been sorry that she should think that I had come there on her account. Before long the young man took leave of the ladies and returned to his party. He left her; did that mean that he was not in love with her? I cast a furtive glance at Mademoiselle Dumeillan. After that young man’s departure she was as light-hearted and seemed to enjoy herself as much as when he was there. I began to think that I was mistaken and that he was not a lover.