t close range, are graciously conducted by the administrator-general or
by the officer for the week.

Here it was that the Marquis de Prerolles appeared in the evening after
his experience at the skating-pond. He had dressed, and had dined in
great haste at a restaurant near the theatre.

The posters announced a revival of 'Adrienne Lecouvreur', with
Mademoiselle Gontier in the principal role, in which she was to appear
for the first time.

Eugenie Gontier was, it was said, the natural daughter of a great foreign
lord, who had bequeathed to her a certain amount of money. Therefore, she
had chosen the theatrical life less from necessity than from inclination.

She was distinguished in presence, a great favorite with the public, and
had a wide circle of friends, among whom a rich banker, the Baron de
Samoreau, greatly devoted to her, had made for her investments
sufficiently profitable to enable her to occupy a mansion of her own, and
to open a salon which became a favorite rendezvous with many persons
distinguished in artistic, financial, and even political circles. Talent
being the guaranty of good companionship, this salon became much
frequented, and General de Prerolles had become one of its most assiduous
visitors.

The first act had begun. Although the charming artist was not to appear
until the second act, she had already descended from her dressing-room,
and, finding herself alone in the greenroom, was putting a final touch to
her coiffure before the mirror when the General entered.

He kissed her hand gallantly, and both seated themselves in a retired
corner between the fireplace and the window.

"I thank you for coming so early," said Eugenie. "I wished very much to
see you to-night, in order to draw from your eyes a little of your
courage before I must face the footlights in a role so difficult and so
superb."

"The fire of the footlights is not that of the enemy--above all, for you,
who are so sure of winning the battle."

"Alas! does one ever know? Although at the last rehearsal Monsieur
Legouve assured me that all was perfect, look up there at that portrait
of Rachel, and judge for yourself whether I have not reason to tremble at
my audacity in attempting this role after such a predecessor."

"But you yourself caused this play to be revived," said Henri.

"I did it because of you," Eugenie replied.

"Of me?"

"Yes. Am I not your Adrienne, and is not Maurice de Saxe as intrepid as
you, and as