She returned to her carriage and drove away. One of the shopmen stood at the door looking after his elegant customer’s carriage. I went up to him and asked him what was the lady’s name.
“Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier,” he replied. I dared not ask him for her address, and went on my way.
The recollection of this vision, for it was really a vision, would not leave my mind like so many visions I had seen, and I looked everywhere for this royally beautiful woman in white.
A few days later there was a great performance at the Opera Comique. The first person I saw in one of the boxes was Marguerite Gautier.
The young man whom I was with recognised her immediately, for he said to me, mentioning her name: “Look at that pretty girl.”
At that moment Marguerite turned her opera-glass in our direction and, seeing my friend, smiled and beckoned to him to come to her.
“I will go and say ‘How do you do?’ to her,” he said, “and will be back in a moment.”
“I could not help saying ‘Happy man!’”
“Why?”
“To go and see that woman.”