forth
from the obscurity in which he had desired to remain, but it was not
possible to avoid it, and he could only submit. For a few moments he did
think of bolting, and not making his appearance again upon the stage in
Poitiers; but the remembrance of the disappointment it would be to the
worthy tyrant, who was in an ecstasy of delight over the riches pouring
into the treasury, prevented his carrying out this design. And, indeed,
as he reminded himself, were not these honest comedians, who had rescued
him from his misery and despair, entitled in all fairness to profit, so
far as they could, by this unexpected and overwhelming favour which he
had all unwittingly gained? So, resigning himself as philosophically as
he could to his fate, he buckled his sword-belt, draped his cloak over
his shoulder, put on his mask and calmly awaited his call to the stage.

As the receipts were so large, Herode, like a generous manager, had
doubled the usual number of lights, so that the theatre was almost as
radiant as if a flood of sunshine had been poured into it. The fair
portion of the audience, hoping to attract the attention of the valiant
Captain Fracasse, had arrayed themselves in all their splendour; not a
diamond was left in its casket; they sparkled and flashed, every one, on
necks and arms more or less white and round, and on heads more or less
shapely, but all filled with an ardent desire to please the hero of the
hour; so the scene was a brilliant one in every way. Only one box yet
remained unoccupied, the best situated and most conspicuous in the whole
house; every eye was turned upon it, and much wonder expressed at the
apathy manifested by those who had secured it, for all the rest of the
spectators had been long settled in their places. At length, just as the
curtain was rising, a young lady entered and took her seat in the much
observed box, accompanied by a gentleman of venerable and patriarchal
appearance; apparently an indulgent old uncle, a slave to the caprices
of his pretty niece, who had renounced his comfortable after-dinner nap
by the fire, in order to obey her behest and escort her to the theatre.
She, slender and erect as Diana, was very richly and elegantly dressed,
in that peculiar and exquisite shade of delicate sea green which can
be worn only by the purest blondes, and which seemed to enhance the
dazzling whiteness of her uncovered shoulders, and the rounded, slender
neck, diaphanous as alabaster, that pr