, my buck, you've insulted Fontan," resumed Mignon, who was doing
his best to force the joke. "Stand on guard! One--two--got him right in
the middle of his chest!"

He lunged and struck the young man with such force that the latter grew
very pale and could not speak for some seconds. With a wink Clarisse
showed the others where Rose Mignon was standing on the threshold of the
greenroom. Rose had witnessed the scene, and she marched straight up
to the journalist, as though she had failed to notice her husband and,
standing on tiptoe, bare-armed and in baby costume, she held her face up
to him with a caressing, infantine pout.

"Good evening, baby," said Fauchery, kissing her familiarly.

Thus he indemnified himself. Mignon, however, did not seem to have
observed this kiss, for everybody kissed his wife at the theater. But
he laughed and gave the journalist a keen little look. The latter would
assurely have to pay for Rose's bravado.

In the passage the tightly shutting door opened and closed again, and a
tempest of applause was blown as far as the greenroom. Simonne came in
after her scene.

"Oh, Father Bosc HAS just scored!" she cried. "The prince was writhing
with laughter and applauded with the rest as though he had been paid to.
I say, do you know the big man sitting beside the prince in the
stage box? A handsome man, with a very sedate expression and splendid
whiskers!"

"It's Count Muffat," replied Fauchery. "I know that the prince, when he
was at the empress's the day before yesterday, invited him to dinner for
tonight. He'll have corrupted him afterward!"

"So that's Count Muffat! We know his father-in-law, eh, Auguste?" said
Rose, addressing her remark to Mignon. "You know the Marquis de Chouard,
at whose place I went to sing? Well, he's in the house too. I noticed
him at the back of a box. There's an old boy for you!"

Prulliere, who had just put on his huge plume of feathers, turned round
and called her.

"Hi, Rose! Let's go now!"

She ran after him, leaving her sentence unfinished. At that moment Mme
Bron, the portress of the theater, passed by the door with an immense
bouquet in her arms. Simonne asked cheerfully if it was for her, but
the porter woman did not vouchsafe an answer and only pointed her chin
toward Nana's dressing room at the end of the passage. Oh, that Nana!
They were loading her with flowers! Then when Mme Bron returned she
handed a letter to Clarisse, who allowed a smothered oat