“I have no order.”
“Then you cannot go in,” said the man at the box office drily.
“But I belong to Mme. d’Espard’s party.”
“It is not our business to know that,” said the man, who could not help exchanging a barely perceptible smile with his colleague.
A carriage stopped under the peristyle as he spoke. A chasseur, in a livery which Lucien did not recognize, let down the step, and two women in evening dress came out of the brougham. Lucien had no mind to lay himself open to an insolent order to get out of the way from the official. He stepped aside to let the two ladies pass.
“Why, that lady is the Marquise d’Espard, whom you say you know, sir,” said the man ironically.
Lucien was so much the more confounded because Mme. de Bargeton did not seem to recognize him in his new plumage; but when he stepped up to her, she smiled at him and said:
“This has fallen out wonderfully—come!”
The functionaries at the box office grew serious again as Lucien followed Mme. de Bargeton. On their way up the great staircase the lady introduced M. de Rubempré to her cousin. The box belonging to the First Gentleman of the Bedchamber is situated in one of the angles at the back of the house, so that its occupants see and are seen all over the theatre. Lucien took his seat on a chair behind Mme. de Bargeton, thankful to be in the shadow.
“M. de Rubempré,” said the Marquise with flattering graciousness, “this is your first visit to the Opéra, is it not? You must have a view of the house; take this seat, sit in front of the box; we give you permission.”