lieve that I have never been
to the Folies-Bergere? Will you take me there?"

He hesitated a moment, afraid of meeting Rachel. Then he thought: "Bah!
I am not married, after all. If that girl sees me she will understand
the state of things, and will not speak to me. Besides, we will have a
box."

Another reason helped his decision. He was well pleased of this
opportunity of offering Madame de Marelle a box at the theater without
its costing anything. It was a kind of compensation.

He left her in the cab while he got the order for the box, in order that
she might not see it offered him, and then came to fetch her. They went
in, and were received with bows by the acting manager. An immense crowd
filled the lounge, and they had great difficulty in making their way
through the swarm of men and women. At length they reached the box and
settled themselves in it, shut in between the motionless orchestra and
the eddy of the gallery. But Madame de Marelle rarely glanced at the
stage. Wholly taken up with the women promenading behind her back, she
constantly turned round to look at them, with a longing to touch them,
to feel their bodices, their skirts, their hair, to know what these
creatures were made of.

Suddenly she said: "There is a stout, dark girl who keeps watching us
all the time. I thought just now that she was going to speak to us. Did
you notice her?"

He answered: "No, you must be mistaken." But he had already noticed her
for some time back. It was Rachel who was prowling about in their
neighborhood, with anger in her eyes and hard words upon her lips.

Duroy had brushed against her in making his way through the crowd, and
she had whispered, "Good evening," with a wink which signified, "I
understand." But he had not replied to this mark of attention for fear
of being seen by his mistress, and he had passed on coldly, with haughty
look and disdainful lip. The woman, whom unconscious jealousy already
assailed, turned back, brushed against him again, and said in louder
tones: "Good evening, George." He had not answered even then. Then she
made up her mind to be recognized and bowed to, and she kept continually
passing in the rear of the box, awaiting a favorable moment.

As soon as she saw that Madame de Marelle was looking at her she touched
Duroy's shoulder, saying: "Good evening, are you quite well?"

He did not turn round, and she went on: "What, have you grown deaf since
Thursday?" He did not reply, affe