Jean alone was listening to the divine simplicity of the music, as gracious as the lines of a Greek temple. Iphigenia was addressing to the chaste goddess her touching prayer for the boon of death in her exile on the savage coasts of Tauris. The singer, in the youthful glory of her body draped in harmonious folds of white, in the majesty of her attitude, in the purity of her face, recalled, though with the added grace of living flesh, those ancient marbles whose motionless charm appeals so strongly to all souls that love beauty and whose empire grows the greater by their defiance of the flight of ages. Only half aware of the inspiration of the art to which they were listening, the audience applauded enthusiastically. Isabelle, leaning back, saw with surprise the joy in Jean’s eyes. His glance passed over her and was centred on the stage. She addressed a question to him in a low voice to compel him to draw nearer to her and to inhale the perfume of her body. After the first act Madame de Marthenay wished to ask Jean to take her to the gambling-room and to call her husband. She burned to put a question to him. Yet she dared not and was obliged to take M. Landeau’s arm. Favoured by this double departure Isabelle signed to Jean to sit down beside her. “Do you know,” said she, “that I have mourned your death?” “My death? That was rather premature.” “They announced Commander Guibert’s. You were with him at Timmimun. Could I guess whether you had shared his fate or not?” “These lovely eyes have really wept for me?” “For a whole evening.” “They shine so bright that they ought to dry up all tears!” “They are so happy to see you again, Jean.” She certainly was doing her best to devour him with them. At once she re-established that atmosphere of guilty pleasure that had existed between them before. Seeing that his hand was bare she took off her gloves and laid her own, heavily be-ringed, on her old friend’s. “You love jewels,” said he, looking at this slender white hand with its pink nails. “Yes,” she answered. “I think I am wearing all the treasures of the world in miniature.” He smiled sceptically. “The world is too huge for you to hold in your hand.” “Look at the green of this emerald, Jean.” “I prefer the green of the meadows.” “And the bright blue of this sapphire.” “It will not compare with the blue of the sky.” “Look at these rubies.” “I prefer blood.” “And these pearls.” “I would rather see tears.” “Well, be content--for I shed them for you.”