But I had really nothing to do with any of these political journals: I only read the literary news. As I had found a dinner which cost me nothing, I decided to spend the price of my dinner on a theatre ticket, a ticket for a play: I hunted through the theatre advertisements in all the newspapers, and, guided by Hiraux in the choice of the literature on which I proposed to spend my evening, I decided to go to the Porte-Saint-Martin. The play was the _Vampire._ It was only the third or fourth representation of the revival of this piece. Hiraux advised me to make haste; the piece had caught on and was drawing crowds. It was played by the two actors who were popular at the Porte-Saint-Martin: Philippe and Madame Dorval. I followed Hiraux's advice; but, in spite of all the haste I made, it is a long way from the _Café de la Porte-Saint-Honoré_ to the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin: I found the approaches to it blocked. I was quite fresh to Paris. I did not know all the various theatre customs. I went along by the side of an enormous queue enclosed in barriers, not daring even to ask where the entrance-money was taken. One of the _habitués_ in the queue no doubt perceived my confusion, for he called out to me-- "Monsieur! monsieur!" I turned round, wondering if he were addressing me. "Yes ... you, monsieur," continued the habitué, "you with the frizzy locks ... do you want a place?" "Do I want a place?" I repeated. "Yes. If you put yourself at the bottom of this queue, you will never get in to-night. Five hundred people will be turned away." This was Hebrew to me. Of his language I only gathered that five hundred folk would be turned away and that I should be one of the number. "Come, would you really like my place?" continued the habitué. "Have you got a place, then?" "Can't you see for yourself?" I could see nothing at all. "Taken in advance, then?" I asked. "Taken since noon." "And a good one ...?" "What do you mean by good?" Now it was the habitué who did not understand. "Well," I went on, "shall I have a good place?" "You can sit where you like." "What! I can sit where I like?" "Of course." "How much did your place cost?" "Twenty sous." I reflected within myself that twenty sous to sit where I liked was not dear. I drew twenty sous from my pocket and gave them to the _habitué_, who immediately, with an agility that proved he was well accustomed to this exercise, climbed up the rails of the barrier, got over it and alighted by my side. "Well," I said, "now where is your place?" "Take it, ... but look sharp; for, if they push up, you will lose it." At the same moment light broke in on my mind: "Those people, inside that barrier, have no doubt taken and paid for their places in advance, and it is in order to keep them they are penned in like that."