A woman may be loved for three things:—for her superior intellect,—a love serious, but rare; for her beauty,—a love vulgar and brief; for the qualities of her heart,—a love lasting, but monotonous.
The superiority of Adéonne had vanished. Her beauty remained; but her lover was accustomed to that. She could still boast of her heart; but she had either too much or too little of that to retain her hold upon the affections of Eusebe.
CHAPTER XXX.
An absurd fashion that prevails behind the scenes gave the finishing stroke to the provincial’s faltering passion for Adéonne. Eusebe, being mild and modest in his manners, soon won the general favor of the people connected with the theatre, who had a pleasant word for him whenever he made his appearance there. Thus, the second régisseur never failed to say,—
“Good-evening, monsieur: allow me to congratulate you. You sang like an angel the other evening.”
Some one else would say,—
“Ah, Monsieur Martin, you ought to be satisfied. They say that your rôle in the new piece is charming.”
“Monsieur Martin,” said another, “I speak as a friend. Marie Bachu is striving to injure you in the esteem of the director. She wants the rôle in the new production of Meyerbeer. You know that she is capable of any thing. Distrust her.”