tment, for the poignant evocation of
Goethe's dramatic poem disappeared in this metamorphosis. Thenceforth he
saw before him only a fairy spectacle, filled with pretty little songs,
and actors of talent whose voices were all he listened to. That man in a
doublet, that pretty youth with his roulades, who showed his thighs
and displayed his voice, displeased him. This was not the real,
irresistible, and sinister Chevalier Faust, who was about to seduce the
fair Marguerite.

He sat down again, and the phrase he had just heard returned to his
mind:

"I would have a treasure that embraces all--Youth!"

He murmured it between his teeth, sang it sadly in the depths of his
soul, and, with eyes fixed always upon Annette's blonde head, which rose
in the square opening of the box, he felt all the bitterness of that
desire that never could be realized.

But Montrose had just finished the first act with such perfection that
enthusiasm broke forth. For several minutes, the noise of clapping,
stamping, and bravos swept like a storm through the theater. In all
the boxes the women clapped their gloved hands, while the men standing
behind them shouted as they applauded.

The curtain fell, but it was raised twice before the applause subsided.
Then, when the curtain had fallen for the third time, separating the
stage and the interior boxes from the audience, the Duchess and Annette
continued their applause a few moments, and were specially thanked by a
discreet bow from the tenor.

"Oh, he looked at us!" said Annette.

"What an admirable artist!" said the Duchess.

And Bertin, who had been leaning over, looked with a mingled feeling of
irritation and disdain at the admired actor as he disappeared between
two wings, waddling a little, his legs stiff, one hand on his hip, in
the affected pose of a theatrical hero.

They began to talk of him. His social successes had made him as famous
as his talent. He had visited every capital, in the midst of feminine
ecstasies of those who, hearing before he appeared that he was
irresistible, had felt their hearts throb as he appeared upon the
stage. But it was said that he appeared to care very little for all this
sentimental delirium, and contented himself with his musical triumphs.
Musadieu related, in veiled language because of Annette's presence,
details of the life of this handsome singer, and the Duchess, quite
carried away, understood and approved all the follies that he was able
to cr