| Pierre de Lapointe | M. Petrus Martel, of the Odéon. |
| Oscar Léveillé | M. Petitnivelle, of the Vaudeville. |
| Jean | M. Lapalme, of the Grand Theater of Bordeaux. |
| Philippine | Mademoiselle Odelin, of the Odéon. |
During the representation, the Orchestra will be likewise conducted
by the Maestro, Saint Landri.
Christiane read this aloud, laughed, and was astonished.
Her father went on: "Oh! they will amuse you. Come and look at them."
They turned to the right, and entered the park. The bathers promenaded gravely, slowly, along the three walks. They drank their glasses of water, and then went away. Some of them, seated on benches, traced lines in the sand with the ends of their walking-sticks or their umbrellas. They did not talk, seemed not to think, scarcely to live, enervated, paralyzed by the ennui of the thermal station. Only the odd music of the orchestra broke the sweet silence as it leaped into the air, coming one knew not whence, produced one knew not how, passing under the foliage and appearing to stir up these melancholy walkers.
A voice cried: "Christiane!"
She turned round. It was her brother. He rushed toward her, embraced her, and, having pressed Andermatt's hand, took his sister by the arm, and drew her along with him, leaving his father and his brother-in-law in the rear.
They chatted. He was a tall, well-made young fellow, prone to laughter like her, light-hearted as the Marquis, indifferent to events, but always on the lookout for a thousand francs.
"I thought you were asleep," said he. "But for that I would have come to embrace you. And then Paul carried me off this morning to the château of Tournoel."
"Who is Paul? Oh, yes, your friend!"