“He was mad about the drama—but the classics only. Whenever there was a great play at the Comédie or the Odéon, he took me to see it—fortunately he could get tickets, or we should have been ruined. When there was no performance, we spent the evening reading—Racine, Molière, Hugo—I know them all by heart. And then when at last the Opéra opened again, every day he took me with him to rehearsal, and before long I was in the ballet. A year later, the première danseuse fell ill one night and I took her place and did so well that I was given an engagement.
“You know, perhaps, what the life of the stage is—there are no reticences, no privacies. If you have ever been to the Opéra on the night of a ballet, you have noticed that the front row of seats is empty until the ballet is about to begin; then a number of old men come in and take the seats. Most of them have decorations; many of them are famous in art or literature or diplomacy—and each carries an opera-glass. They have come to see the girls—especially the particular girl each of them is protecting; and when the ballet is over, they come back and watch the girls dress and carry them off to supper somewhere.
“Well, it was from that my step-father protected me. He could not protect me from the knowledge of what was going on, from the loose talk and coarse jests; but at least I remained vierge. It was a greater merit on his part than on mine, for those old men disgusted me, but he could have made a little fortune. Perhaps he had something else in his mind for me—something greater. At any rate, in the end he made my mother come with me to watch over me better than he could, and every night I went home between them. Everybody called them the Dragons.
“And then, one night after I had danced very well, the director brought Danilo back and introduced him to my mother and to me. I thought him very handsome and distinguished. Then my step-father came and they talked together for many minutes, my step-father shaking his head all the time. Finally we went home, and my step-father was very silent all the way.
“After that, the prince came back almost every evening and talked to us, and brought me little gifts of flowers and bon-bons. Once he gave me a ring, but my mother made me return it. He scarcely glanced at the other girls, though they did all they could to attract him; and he had other talks with my step-father. At last one day my step-father took me to his study and bade me sit down.
“‘My child,’ he said, ‘you are twenty-two years old, and it is time you thought of your future. I shall not be able to watch over you much longer, for some day my weak heart will stop beating, and before that I should like to see you range yourself. This prince, now—what do you think of him?’
“‘He is not bad,’ I said, ‘but he is too young.’
“‘You are right, and if it was merely the question of a protector, I would prefer an older man; he would know better how to value you, and you would have the benefit of his experience. But none of those old fellows would marry you.’
“‘Do you mean that the prince will marry me?’ I asked, astonished.
“‘You will not be his wife, exactly,’ said my step-father, ‘and yet you will be more than his mistress,’ and he explained to me as well as he could what a morganatic marriage is. ‘Some day he will have to marry again for reasons of state, but by that time you will have acquired a knowledge of the world, a certain position, and should be able to look out for yourself. He has not much money, but a prince does not lack money like an ordinary man, for there are always people willing to provide it just for the privilege of being seen with him. It will be a great education for you and I advise you to accept.’