ured out in the very
first notes, abundant and pure, like the water of some sparkling spring,
there ran through the house such a thrill of delight and surprise, that
all the interest of the evening was concentrated on her. For the young
woman, it was one of those happy days, in which the ambient atmosphere
becomes limpid, light and vibrating, wafting towards one all the
radiance and adulations of success. As for the husband, they almost
forgot to applaud him, and as a dazzling light ever seems to make the
shade around it darker, so he, found himself relegated, as it were, to
the most insignificant part of the stage, as if he were neither more nor
less than a mere walking gentleman.

After all, the passion that was revealed in the songstress's acting, in
her voice full of charm and tenderness, was inspired by him. He alone
lent fire to the glances of those deep eyes, and that idea ought to have
made him proud, but the comedian's vanity proved stronger. At the end
of the performance he sent for the leader of the _claque_ and rated him
soundly. They had missed his entry and his exit, forgotten the recall at
the third act; he would complain to the manager, &c.

Alas! In vain he struggled, in vain did the paid applause greet him,
the good graces of the public, henceforth bestowed on his wife, remained
definitively acquired to her. She was fortunate too in a choice of parts
appropriate to her talent and her beauty, in which she appeared with all
the assurance of a woman of the world entering a ball-room, dressed in
the colours best suited to her, and certain of an ovation. At each fresh
success the husband was depressed, nervous, and irritable. This vogue
which left him and so absolutely became hers only, seemed to him a kind
of robbery. For a long while he strove to hide from every one, more
especially from his wife, this unavowable anguish; but one evening, as
she was going up the stairs leading to her dressing-room, holding up
with both hands her skirt-laden with bouquets, carried away by her
triumphal success, she said to him with a voice still overcome by the
excitement of applause: "We have had a magnificent house to-night." He
replied: "You think so!" in such an ironical and bitter tone, that the
young wife suddenly understood all.

Her husband was jealous! Not with the jealousy of a lover, who will
only allow his wife to be beautiful for him, but with the jealousy of an
artist, cold, furious, implacable. At times, w