ns profound perception in the soul, he had a sort of revelation as
to how Goethe had been able to conceive the heart of Faust.

He had read the poem some time before, and thought it very beautiful
without being moved by it, but now he suddenly realized its unfathomable
depth, for it seemed to him that on that evening he himself had become a
Faust.

Leaning lightly upon the railing of the box, Annette was listening with
all her ears; and murmurs of satisfaction were beginning to be heard
from the audience, for Montrose's voice was better and richer than ever!

Bertin had closed his eyes. For a whole month, all that he had seen,
all that he had felt, everything that he had encountered in life he
had immediately transformed into a sort of accessory to his passion. He
threw the world and himself as nourishment to this fixed idea. All
that he saw that was beautiful or rare, all that he imagined that was
charming, he mentally offered to his little friend; and he had no longer
an idea that he did not in some way connect with his love.

Now he listened from the depths of his soul to the echo of Faust's
lamentations, and the desire to die surged up within him, the desire to
have done with all his grief, with all the misery of his hopeless
love. He looked at Annette's delicate profile, and saw the Marquis de
Farandal, seated behind her, also looking at it. He felt old, lost,
despairing. Ah, never to await anything more, never to hope for anything
more, no longer to have even the right to desire, to feel himself
outside of everything, in the evening of life, like a superannuated
functionary whose career is ended--what intolerable torture!

Applause burst forth; Montrose had triumphed already. And Labarriere as
Mephistopheles sprang up from the earth.

Olivier, who never had heard him in this role, listened with renewed
attention. The remembrance of Aubin, so dramatic with his bass voice,
then of Faure, so seductive with his baritone, distracted him a short
time.

But suddenly a phrase sung by Montrose with irresistible power stirred
him to the heart. Faust was saying to Satan:

"Je veux un tresor qui les contient tous--
Je veux la jeunesse."

And the tenor appeared in silken doublet, a sword by his side, a plumed
cap on his head, elegant, young, and handsome, with the affectations of
a handsome singer.

A murmur arose. He was very attractive and the women were pleased with
him. But Olivier felt some disappoin