When he had drained his bock, Durand stood up, surveyed with a professional eye the crowd at the tables, nodded to a few acquaintances, and made a sign to Jules that he was ready to go. It had ceased raining, but the sky was still leaden. The splendid portico of the Madeleine loomed out of the darkness, and the lights in the _Boulevard des Capucines_ were gleaming faintly in the mist. They met few people as they walked toward the _Opéra_, but there was plenty of life around the theatres in the _Boulevard des Italiens_. When they reached the _Cirque_, Durand had a whispered consultation with the _Control_ who sat in self-conscious dignity and evening dress at the desk near the main door. He referred the journalist to a short fat man with a white beard, lounging a few feet away, and Jules stood apart while the two had an animated talk. After a few moments, Durand made a sign to Jules to come up, and Jules found himself presented to Réju as "my _confrère_, Monsieur Jules Le Baron, of the Marseilles _Gazette_." Réju was very amiable, and Jules felt angry, though he could not help being amused by Durand's serene impudence. They were conducted at once into the theatre, under the great arch, draped with French flags, where the performers made their exits and their entrances. Then they found themselves in a large bare room, with several passages radiating from it. "The dressing-rooms are here," Réju explained, pointing to the passages. "Mademoiselle Blanche's room is number 5. I don't know whether she has come yet or not. Her act doesn't begin till ten minutes of eleven. Wait here, and I'll see if she can receive you." Durand smiled at Jules, and as soon as Réju was out of hearing, he whispered: "I hope you didn't mind that little fairy-tale of mine. I had to pass you off as one of the fraternity. If I hadn't they wouldn't have let you come in. Now, don't forget your part, the Marseilles _Gazette_. It's a good republican paper. The editor's a great friend of mine." "I'm afraid I sha'n't be a credit to the profession. I've never seen any one interviewed in my life." "Then it'll be an education to you." Durand laughed. "Look out. Here he comes!" The fat little manager approached them with a smiling face; he evidently had in mind two free advertisements for the theatre. "Mademoiselle Blanche," he said impressively, "arrived five minutes ago, and she hasn't begun to dress yet. If you'll have the kindness to follow me, messieurs"--he concluded with a bow and a wave of the hand. Jules' body was tingling, and his heart beat violently. Durand, on the contrary, seemed more debonair than ever; with an air of importance, he strutted behind the manager, as if conferring an honor on the performer by his call. Réju rapped on the door, and after a moment a shrill voice piped: "_Entrez!_" IV