though the manner in which she
had understood her part at first amazed people, it ended by charming
them. From the moment of confiding in "Stratonice," from the moment of
relating her dream, she turned "Pauline" into a soaring mystical
creature, some saint, as it were, such as one sees in stained-glass
windows, carried along by a Wagnerian Brunhilda riding the clouds. It was
a thoroughly ridiculous conception of the part, contrary to reason and
truth alike. Still, it only seemed to interest people the more, partly on
account of mysticism being the fashion, and partly on account of the
contrast between Silviane's assumed candour and real depravity. Her
success increased from act to act, and some slight hissing which was
attributed to Sagnier only helped to make the victory more complete.
Monferrand and Dauvergne, as the newspapers afterwards related, gave the
signal for applause; and the whole house joined in it, partly from
amusement and partly perhaps in a spirit of irony.

During the interval between the fourth and fifth acts there was quite a
procession of visitors to Duvillard's box, where the greatest excitement
prevailed. Duthil, however, after absenting himself for a moment, came
back to say: "You remember our influential critic, the one whom I brought
to dinner at the Cafe Anglais? Well, he's repeating to everybody that
'Pauline' is merely a little _bourgeoise_, and is not transformed by the
heavenly grace until the very finish of the piece. To turn her into a
holy virgin from the outset simply kills the part, says he."

"Pooh!" repeated Duvillard, "let him argue if he likes, it will be all
the more advertisement.... The important point is to get Massot's
article inserted in the 'Globe' to-morrow morning."

On this point, unfortunately, the news was by no means good. Chaigneux,
who had gone in search of Fonsegue, declared that the latter still
hesitated in the matter in spite of Silviane's success, which he declared
to be ridiculous. Thereupon, the Baron became quite angry. "Go and tell
Fonsegue," he exclaimed, "that I insist on it, and that I shall remember
what he does."

Meantime Princess Rosemonde was becoming quite delirious with enthusiasm.
"My dear Hyacinthe," she pleaded, "please take me to Silviane's
dressing-room; I can't wait, I really must go and kiss her."

"But we'll all go!" cried Duvillard, who heard her entreaty.

The passages were crowded, and there were people even on the stage.
Moreover