And, as he spoke, Adhémar took his card from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it, looked at it eagerly, and her face assumed an expression of satisfaction.
"I know you already by name and reputation," she said, looking up at Adhémar with a smile; "I have had the pleasure of seeing most of your plays, and I congratulate myself upon this opportunity of telling the author how many pleasant moments I owe to his talent."
Adhémar could not control a feeling of pride, which showed itself on his face. What dramatic author, poet, or novelist would be entirely insensible to such praise, especially when it is uttered with a charming smile by an intelligent mouth? From the mouth of a fool a compliment sometimes has a foolish sound, and sometimes produces an absurd effect.
"I am very fortunate, madame," Adhémar replied, "if my works have afforded you any diversion; your praise almost makes me vain of my success. Do you like the theatre, madame?"
"Very much, monsieur."
"And you go often?"
"Why, yes, as often as a woman can go who is all alone in the world and must always find some friend who is willing to go with her; for a lady cannot go to the theatre alone; it is neither amusing nor proper."
"Ah! madame is—madame has no——"
"I am a widow, monsieur."
"That is what I meant to say, madame. Forgive me—I am the presumptuous one—but I should be very happy to know——"