On the whole, the performance was a great success as far as money went, but nobody had got any applause to speak of except Diane.
It takes some time to wash off powder and lamp-black and grease paint, and to get into even the shabbiest clothes, so that the street was almost deserted when the players came out in the quiet autumn night. One person, however, was on watch. This was the Marquis Egmont de St. Angel, known as Egmont. He stepped up to Diane and said with a low bow:
“Mademoiselle, will you do me the honor of taking supper with me in the pavilion of the Hotel Metropole?”
“I thank you very much, Monsieur,” replied Diane in her flute-like voice, “but I make it a rule always to go home with my friends, Monsieur and Madame Grandin, after the performance.”
The Marquis remained silent for a moment, then he said, bowing to Madame Grandin:
“Perhaps your friends will give me the pleasure of their company too.”
“It is as they wish,” answered Diane. “But I must return home. I cannot stay out late; it affects my voice unfavorably.”
The Marquis stared at her as if she were a lunatic; he had never known stage people of this class who refused anything to eat and drink.
Diane then, with Jean, started up the street shepherded by the Grandins. When they reached the corner, Grandin found his big, melodious voice, and thundered at Diane:
“What do you mean by declining for us to go to supper? I never went to supper with a marquis in my life; it would be worth a hundred francs’ advertising!”