drawing-room had
been taken down, and showed, in the little drawing-room which led to the
dining-room, a crowd of men in white neckties, standing on tiptoe.

The curtain rose upon 'The Caprice.' Renee played with much spirit the
part of Madame de Lery. Henry, as the husband, revealed one of those
real theatrical talents which are often found in cold young men and in
grave men of the world. Naomi herself--carried away by Henry's acting,
carefully prompted by Denoisel from behind the scenes, a little
intoxicated by her audience--played her little part of a neglected wife
very tolerably. This was a great relief to Madame Bourjot. Seated in the
front row, she had followed her daughter with anxiety. Her pride dreaded
a failure. The curtain fell, the applause burst out, and all the company
were called for. Her daughter had not been ridiculous; she was happy in
this great success, and she composedly gave herself up to the speeches,
opinions, congratulations, which, as in all representations of private
theatricals, followed the applause and continued in murmurs. Amidst all
that she thus vaguely heard, one sentence, pronounced close by her,
reached her ears clear and distinct above the buzz of general
conversation:--"Yes, it is his sister, I know; but I think that for the
part he is not sufficiently in love with her, and really too much in
love with his wife: did you notice it?" And the speaker, feeling that
she was being overheard by Madame Bourjot, leaned over and whispered in
her neighbor's ear. Madame Bourjot became serious.

After a pause the curtain went up again, and Henry Mauperin appeared as
Pierrot or Harlequin, not in the traditional sack of white calico and
black cap, but as an Italian harlequin, with a white three-cornered hat,
and dressed entirely in white satin from head to foot. A shiver of
interest ran through the women, proving that the costume and the man
were both charming; and the folly began.

It was the mad story of Pierrot, married to one woman and wishing to
marry another; a farce intermingled with passion, which had been
unearthed by a playwright, with the help of a poet, from a collection of
old comic plays. Renee this time acted the part of the neglected woman,
who in various disguises interfered between her husband and his gallant
adventures, and Naomi that of the woman he loved. Henry, in his scenes
of love with the latter, carried all before him. He played with youth,
with brilliancy, with excite