"But everything is sung, ma chére, in an opera."
"What do you mean? Is there no play?"
"This is the play; only instead of speaking their words, they sing them."
Josephine shrugged her shoulders.
"Ah, bah!" said she. "How stupid! I had rather have seen the Closerie des Gênets at the Graiété, if that is to be the case the whole evening. Oh, dear! there is such a pretty lady come into the opposite box, in such a beautiful blue glacé, trimmed with black velvet and lace!"
"Hush! you must not talk while they are singing!"
"Tiens! it is no pleasure to come out and be dumb. But do just see the lady in the opposite box! She looks exactly as if she had walked out of a fashion-book."
"My dear child, I don't care one pin to look at her," said I, preferring to keep as much out of sight as possible. "To admire your pretty face is enough for me."
Josephine squeezed my hand affectionately.
"That is just as Emile used to talk to me," said she.