"Well, well, you are the stronger of the two," I said.
And I went out.
When outside the door, I considered how stupid it was to have come to see a play, to have paid for two places to see it-a place in the queue and a place at the office—to have seen only a curtain representing hangings of green velvet, and to come away without seeing anything else. I went on to reflect that, since I had already paid for two tickets, I might as well incur the expense of a third, and as people were still going in and a double queue circled the theatre so that the door formed as it were the clasp to the girdle, I placed myself at the end of the queue which looked to me to be the shortest. It was the opposite queue to the one I had gone in by before; it was not so dense, as it led to the orchestra, the front galleries, the stage-boxes and the first and second rows of stalls. This was what I was informed by the clerk at the box-office when I asked for a ticket for the pit. I looked up, and, as he had indicated, I saw upon the white plan the designation of the places to be obtained at that particular office. The cheapest places were those in the orchestra and second row of stalls. Seats in the orchestra and in the second row of stalls cost two francs fifty; centimes. I took two francs fifty centimes from my pocket, and asked for an orchestra seat. The orchestra ticket was handed to me, and my play-going cost me five francs all told.
No matter: it was no good crying over spilt milk! My dinner had not cost me anything, and to-morrow I was to enter the Duc d'Orléans' secretarial offices; I could well afford to allow myself this trivial orgy. I reappeared triumphant before the check barrier, holding my orchestra ticket in my hand. The collector smiled graciously upon me, and said, "On the right, monsieur." I noticed this was quite a different direction from the first time. The first time I had tacked myself on to the right-hand queue and gone in at the left; the second time, I followed the left queue and they told me to enter on the right. I augured from this that since I had this time reversed the order of my proceedings, the manner of my reception would also be reversed, and, consequently, that I should be welcomed instead of rejected.
I was not mistaken. I found quite a different stamp of people in the orchestra from those I had found in the pit, and, as the girl who showed me to my seat pointed out to me a vacant place towards the centre of a row, I set to work to reach it. Everyone rose politely to allow me to pass. I gained my seat, and sat down by the side of a gentleman, wearing grey trousers, a buff waistcoat and black tie. He was a man of about forty or forty-two. His hat was placed on the seat I came to fill. He was interrupted in the perusal of a charming little book,—which I learnt later was an Elzevir,—apologised as he took up his hat, bowed to me and went on reading. "Upon my word!" I said to myself, "here is a gentleman who seems to me better brought up than those I have just encountered." And, promising to enter into friendly relations with my neighbour I sat down in the empty stall.
[CHAPTER VIII]
My neighbour—His portrait—The Pastissier françois—A course in bibliomania—Madame Méchin and the governor of Soissons—Cannons and Elzevirs