for a moment that, carried away by the enthusiasm of the performance, they had resumed the play at the words, "_Antony lui jette un mouchoir sur la bouche, et remporte dans sa chambre_," and had continued the piece. I was mistaken: they were both changing their costumes and were shut in their dressing-rooms. I shouted all kinds of endearing terms through the door. "Are you satisfied?" Bocage inquired. "Enchanted." "Bravo! the rest of the piece belongs to Dorval." "You will not leave her in the lurch?" "Oh! be easy on that score!" I ran to Dorval's door. "It is superb, my child--splendid! magnificent!" "Is that you, my big bow-wow?" "Yes." "Come in, then!" "But the door is fast." "To everybody but you." She opened it; she was unstrung; and, half undressed as she was, she flung herself into my arms. "I think we have secured it, my dear!" "What?" "Why! a success, of course!" "H'm! h'm!" "Are you not satisfied?" "Yes, quite." "Hang it! You would be hard to please, if you were not." "It seems to me, however, that we have passed out of the worst troubles!" "True, all has gone well so far; but ..." "But what, come, my big bow-wow! Oh! I do love you for giving me such a fine part!" "Did you see the society women, eh?" "No." "What did they say of me?" "But I did not see them ..." "You will see them?" "Oh yes." "Then you will repeat what they say ... but frankly, mind." "Of course." "Look, there is my ball dress." "Pretty swell, I fancy!" "Oh! big dog, do you know how much you have cost me?" "No." "Eight hundred francs!" "Come here." I whispered a few words in her ear. "Really?" she exclaimed. "Certainly!" "You will do that?" "Of course, since I have said so." "Kiss me." "No." "Why not?" "I never kiss people when I make them a present." "Why?" "I expect them to kiss me." She threw her arms round my neck. "Come now, good luck!" I said to her. "And you must have it too." "Courage? I am going to seek it." "Where?" "At the Bastille." "At the Bastille?" "Yes, I have a notion the beginning of the fourth act will not get on so well." "Why not?" "Come now! the fourth act is delightful: I will answer for it." "Yes, you will make the end go, but not the beginning." "Ah I yes, that is a _feuilleton_ which Grailly speaks." "Bah! it will succeed all the same: the audience is enthusiastic; we can feel that, all of us." "Ah I you feel that?" "Then, too, see you, my big bow-wow; there are people in the stalls of the house, _gentlemen_ too! who stare at me as they never have stared before." "I don't wonder." "I say ..." "What?" "If I am going to become the rage?" "It only depends on yourself." "Liar!" "I swear it only depends on yourself." "Yes ... but ... Alfred, eh?" "Exactly!" "Upon my word, so much the worse! We shall see." The voice of the stage-manager called Madame Dorval! "Can we begin?"