Camille Favier had reappeared upon the stage. She had begun to act with a happy grace which was changed into nervousness when the attendant brought, according to the plan, into our box the sham letter from Fomberteau. The actress missed her cue when she saw Jacques take a pencil from his pocket, scribble a few words upon a card, then hand it to me and leave the box. But the impostor was right. Her trouble as a woman only intensified her playing as an actress. She suddenly ceased to look in the direction of the box which her lover had left. The entire strength of her being appeared to be concentrated in her part, and in the great final scene very ingeniously borrowed from _La Princesse Georges_, she displayed a power of pathos which roused the audience to a delirium of enthusiasm. Only when she was recalled by an enthusiastic audience and returned to bow did her eyes again turn to the box in which I sat alone. She expressed in her look her pretty regret at being unable to offer this triumph to her lord and master. As far as I was concerned it was an artist’s pride in an artist. But her look was a supplication to me not to go without speaking to her, and when the curtain fell for the last time she came towards me without troubling about being seen by her colleagues. “What has happened?” she asked. “Where is Jacques gone?” “He has left this card for you,” I answered evasively. “Come into my dressing-room,” she said after looking at the card, “I want to speak to you.” Her impatience was so keen that I found her waiting on the stairs for me. She seized my arm at once. “Is it true?” she asked me point-blank. “Is Fomberteau going to fight? With whom? Why?” “I don’t know any more than you do,” I replied still with the same indefiniteness. “Did he know that Jacques was at the theatre this evening? Had they an appointment? Why did he not tell me about it? He knows how interested I am in his friends, especially Fomberteau. He is such a loyal comrade and so bravely defended 'Adéle’ and 'La Duchesse’! Don’t you see how strange it seems to me?” “But Jacques seemed as surprised as you are,” I murmured. “Ah!” she said as she gripped my arm more lightly, “you are an honourable man. You cannot lie very well.” Then in emotional tones she said: “But you would not give your friend away; I know him too.” And after a short silence she continued: “You live in the same direction as myself, Jacques told me; will you wait for me and see me home?”