"He's a new man," he said; "this is probably his first night."
"His first? Oh, poor creature! What a début! Clap your hands again!"
"Poor creature indeed! He's delighted with himself. Many a better man has been driven from the stage after his first verse. Your Paris can be cruel."
Their example had been tepidly followed, and the singer, beaming under the relaxed tension of his nerves, was smiling and bowing before entering upon the perils of a third song.
"And what do they pay him?"
"Oh, a couple of francs a song! The fees will grow with his success."
Max gasped. "A couple of francs! Oh, my God!"
"What do you expect? We're not in Eldorado."
"But a couple of francs!"
"Ssh! Don't talk anarchy. Here come the powers that be!"