I ran off to see how my mother was. On my return to the theatre I met M. Deviolaine in the corridor; but, as soon as I appeared, he quickly retired into a small antechamber, on purpose, as I imagined, to avoid me. I did the poor dear man injustice! he had quite other intentions in his thoughts.
The second act began; it was an amusing one; the scene of the pea-shooter concerning which I was much afraid, passed without any signs of objection, and the curtain fell amidst pretty general applause.
The third act was the one to decide the success of the play. In this act comes the scene between the page and the duchess, and the scene between the duchess and the duke—the scene where M. de Guise compels his wife to appoint a meeting with Saint-Mégrin. If the strong situations in that scene found favour with the public, the battle was won. The scene roused cries of horror, but, at the same time, peals of applause; it was the first time any dramatic scenes had been presented with great freedom—I might even call it with brutal frankness.
I went out; I was very anxious to see my poor mother and to embrace her, although she was then hardly in a condition to understand who it was that was embracing her.
How happy I should have been if she had been in the theatre, instead of on her bed! She was sleeping quite peacefully; I kissed her without waking her, and returned to the theatre. Under the porch I again met M. Deviolaine, who was going away.
"What!" I said, "are you not going to stay to the end?"
"How can I stay to the end, you brute?"
"Why can you not stay?..."
"Because I am thoroughly upset! Because I am turned inside out.. an attack of colic."