“Ah! I was very certain that he would come, myself,” said Madame Glumeau, sitting down beside Madame de Grangeville. “It’s a great favor that he does us, for hitherto he has refused every invitation; he hasn’t been anywhere.”
“Of whom are you speaking, madame?”
“Of one of our neighbors, named Monsieur Malberg, who owns a fine estate near ours, and who has the reputation of living like a bear, of never seeing anybody. But he makes a very good appearance, none the less.”
“Where is this bear of yours?”
“Over yonder, at the right. Turn a little and you can see him at your ease; he isn’t looking this way now.”
Madame de Grangeville followed the indication that Madame Glumeau had given her and soon she saw Monsieur Malberg, who was quite alone, evidently determined to hold himself aloof from the assemblage, at which he was looking as if he were seeking someone there.
The baroness’s eyes rested upon him; she seemed unable to remove them, and as she gazed at him, her features altered, her face became ghastly pale, and her whole person betrayed the most profound agitation. Madame Glumeau did not observe her neighbor’s confusion, because she was talking with the violin and the clarinet players, who proposed to play something to beguile the tedium of the intermission; but, luckily for the audience, the signal was given and the second play soon began.
Madame Glumeau gently nudged her neighbor, who was still looking toward the right, and said:
“They’ve begun, they’ve begun. You’ll see my husband act now, he has a very important part; he is splendid in it; he cuts a thousand capers. My daughter and my son act also, and the play is very well mounted!”
Madame de Grangeville did not seem to hear what Madame Glumeau said, for she continued to look toward the right, apparently paying no attention to the stage; but suddenly she turned her head and resumed her former position; it was because Monsieur Malberg had looked in her direction and she had not dared to meet his glance.