an engagement in _La Biche au Bois_ at the Porte
St. Martin Theatre; but, as had happened at the Academie Royale, she
was a "flop." The critics said so with no uncertain voice; and the
manager announced that he agreed with them. Clearly, then, the ballet
was not her _metier_.

"Well, dancing isn't everything," said Lola, who always took a reverse
in philosophical fashion.

CHAPTER VI

AN "AFFAIR OF HONOUR"

I

The evening of March 7, 1845, was one pregnant with fate where
Dujarier was concerned. He had received, and accepted, an invitation
to a supper-party at the Freres-Provencaux restaurant, given by Mlle
Anais Lievenne, a young actress from the Vaudeville company. Among the
other _convives_ gathered round the festive board were a quartet of
attractive damsels, Atala Beauchene, Victorine Capon, Cecile John, and
Alice Ozy, with, to keep them company, a trio of typical _flaneurs_ in
Rosemond de Beauvallon (a swarthy Creole from Guadaloupe, with
ambitions to be considered a novelist), Roger de Beauvoir (a friend of
Alphonse Karr, and whose other claim to distinction was that he had
once challenged Balzac), and Saint-Agnan (an individual dubbed by
journalists a "man-about-town"). Altogether, a gathering thoroughly
representative of the theatre, the press, the world, and the
half-world.

Lola was invited to join the party; but, at Dujarier's special
request, she excused herself. If, however, she had gone with him, the
tragedy for which the evening was to be responsible might have been
averted. Still, nobody can look ahead.

For some time, all went merrily as the proverbial marriage bell. The
ladies were not too strait-laced; dull care was banished. Food and
drink without stint; music and lights and laughter; bright eyes and
pretty faces. Champagne corks popped; toasts were offered; jests were
cracked; and tongues wagged.

But it did not last. The clouds were gathering; and presently the
harmony was interrupted. Dujarier was to blame. Unable to carry his
liquor well, or else, under the spell of her bright eyes, he went so
far as to remark to his hostess: "My dear Anais, figure to yourself,
in six months from now you and I will be sleeping together." The
damsel's acknowledged cavalier, de Beauvallon, a stickler for
propriety, took this amiss and declared the assertion to be
unwarranted. Words followed. Warm words. Mlle Lievenne, however, being
good-tempered, merely laughed, and peace was restored.

But