"She pains me," said Mathilde. "Under the velvet there must be tears and anxiety; at the door poverty waits while they serve a sumptuous repast; to-morrow, solitude after the brilliant reunion of to-day. What a tragedy! It pains me even to think of it."
Muse ceased to play.
Every one applauded, and Henri hastened to kiss the artiste's hand. Mathilde, who was stifling in this atmosphere, said to Jacob,--
"Let us go out a moment and get some fresh air. No one will miss us. I cannot breathe."
They passed through the crowd and reached the veranda. Muse followed them with her eyes, and turned ironically upon Henri.
"I see," replied he to the mute question, "that my wife was too warm. She has gone out on the veranda with Jacob."
"Then you are not jealous?"
"Near you, mademoiselle, I think of you alone."
"You have no right to talk thus."
"Do you not know that that which is illegal is most attractive to men?"