"Not at all! Not at all!"
"There is only one thing wrong."
"What is it? We'll put it right. I am determined to satisfy you."
"Well … the singer. Between ourselves she is detestable."
The beaming smile on Roussin's face froze suddenly. He said, with some asperity:
"You surprise me, my dear fellow."
"She is useless, absolutely useless," Christophe went on. "She has no voice, no taste, no knowledge of her work, no talent. You're lucky not to have heard her!…"
Roussin grew more and more acid. He cut Christophe short, and said cuttingly:
"I know Mlle. de Sainte-Ygraine. She is a very talented artiste. I have the greatest admiration for her. Every man of taste in Paris shares my opinion."
And he turned his back on Christophe, who saw him offer his arm to the actress and go out with her. He was dumfounded, and Sylvain Kohn, who had watched the scene delightedly, took his arm and laughed, and said as they went down the stairs of the theater:—