ietes. They entered, but Chupin remained on
the pavement, scratching his head furiously, in accordance with his
habit whenever he wished to develop his powers of imagination. He was
trying to think how he might procure admission to the theatre without
paying for it. For several years he had seen every play put upon the
stage in Paris, without spending a sou, and he felt that it would be
actually degrading to purchase a ticket at the office now. "Pay to see a
farce!" he thought. "Not I. I must know some one here--I'll wait for the
entr'acte."

The wisdom of this course became apparent when among those who left the
theatre at the close of the first act he recognized an old acquaintance,
who was now working on the claque, [3] and who at once procured him
a ticket of admission for nothing. "Well, it is a good thing to have
friends everywhere," he muttered, as he took the seat assigned him.

It was a very good place they had given him--a seat in the second
gallery commanding an excellent view of the house. The first glance
around told him that his "customers," as he styled them, were in a
box exactly opposite. They were now in the company of two damsels in
startling toilettes, with exceedingly dishevelled yellow hair, who moved
restlessly about, and giggled and stared, and tried in every possible
way to attract attention. And their stratagem succeeded. However, this
did not seem to please the Viscount de Coralth, who kept himself as far
back in the shade as he possibly could. But young Wilkie was evidently
delighted, and seemed manifestly proud of the attention which the public
was compelled to bestow upon his box. He offered himself as much as
possible to the gaze of the audience; moved about, leaned forward, and
made himself fully as conspicuous as his fair companions. Less than ever
did Chupin now forgive Wilkie for the insult he had cast in the face of
Madame Lia d'Argeles, who was probably his mother.

As for the play, M. Fortunat's emissary did not hear twenty words of it.
He was so overcome with fatigue that he soon fell asleep. The noise and
bustle of each entr'acte aroused him a little, but he did not thoroughly
wake up until the close of the performance. His "customers" were still
in their box, and M. Wilkie was gallantly wrapping the ladies in their
cloaks and shawls. In the vestibule, he and M. de Coralth were joined by
several other young men, and the whole party adjourned to a neighboring
cafe. "These people