' whether important or
unimportant, nor any of the Subscribers' Tuesdays. And as she read
no books but those stamped with the hall-mark of the Academie, so the
actors at the Comedie were the only players to whom she listened with
enthusiasm, with excited ejaculations and rapturous amazement. Her
exclamations began at the box-office, at the sight of the two great
marble fonts, which the good lady's fancy had set up before the statues
of Rachel and Talma in the entrance to the 'House of Moliere.'

'Don't they look after it well? Just look at the door-keepers! What a
theatre it is!'

The jerky movements of her short arms and the puffing of her fat little
body diffused through the passage a sense of noisy gleefulness which
made people say in every box, 'Here's Madame Ancelin!' On Tuesdays
especially, the fashionable indifference of the house contrasted oddly
with the seat where, in supreme content, leaning half out of the box,
sat and cooed this good plump pink-eyed pigeon, piping away audibly,
'Look at Coquelin! Look at De-launay! What perennial youth! What an
admirable theatre!' She never allowed her friends to talk of anything
else, and in the _entr'actes_ greeted her visitors with exclamations of
rapture over the genius of the Academic playwright and the grace of the
Actress-Associate.

At Paul Astier's entrance the curtain was up; and knowing that the
ritual of Madame Ancelin required absolute silence at such a time, he
waited quietly in the little room, separated by a step from the front of
the box, where Madame Ancelin was seated in bliss between Madame Astier
and Madame Eviza, while behind were Danjou and De Freydet looking like
prisoners. The click, which the box-door made and must make in shutting,
was followed by a 'Hush!' calculated to appal the intruder who was
disturbing the service. Madame Astier half turned round, and felt a
shiver at the sight of her son. What was the matter? What had Paul to
say to her of such pressing importance as to bring him to that haunt of
boredom--Paul, who never let himself be bored without a reason? Money
again, no doubt, horrid money! Well, fortunately she would soon have
plenty; Sammy's marriage would make them all rich. Much as she longed to
go up to Paul and reassure him with the good news, which perhaps he had
not heard, she was obliged to stay in her seat, look on at the play, and
join as chorus in her hostess's exclamations, 'Look at Coquelin! Look at
De-launay! Oh! Oh!'