RIVAL BEAUTIES
It was Tuesday, the subscription night; the auditorium was as much the
more brilliant as the play was more interesting than on other nights.
In one of the proscenium boxes sat the Duchesse de Montgeron with the
Comtesse de Lisieux; in another the Vicomtesse de Nointel and Madame
Thomery. In the first box on the left Madame Desvanneaux was to be seen,
with her husband and her son, the youthful and recently rejected
pretender to the hand of Mademoiselle de Vermont.
Among the subscription seats in the orchestra sat the Baron de Samoreau,
the notary Durand, treasurer of the Industrial Orphan Asylum; the aide-
de-camp of General Lenaieff, beside his friend the Marquis de Prerolles.
One large box, the first proscenium loge on the right, was still
unoccupied when the curtain rose on the second act.
The liaison of Eugenie Gontier with the Marquis de Prerolles was not a
mystery; from the moment of her entrance upon the scene, it was evident
that she "played to him," to use a phrase in theatrical parlance. Thus,
after the recital of the combat undertaken in behalf of Adrienne by her
defender--a recital which she concluded in paraphrasing these two lines:
'Paraissez, Navarrois, Maures et Castilians,
Et tout ce que l'Espagne a produit de vaillants,'
many opera-glasses were directed toward the spectator to whom the actress
appeared to address herself, when suddenly a new object of interest
changed the circuit of observation. The door of the large, right-hand
box opened, and Zibeline appeared, accompanied by the Chevalier de
Sainte-Foy, an elderly gallant, carefully dressed and wearing many
decorations, and whose respectable tale of years could give no occasion
for malicious comment on his appearance in the role of 'cavalier
servente'. Having assisted his companion to remove her mantle,
he profited by the instant of time she took to settle her slightly
ruffled plumage before the mirror, to lay upon the railing of the box her
bouquet and her lorgnette. Then he took up a position behind the chair
she would occupy, ready to assist her when she might deign to sit down.
His whole manner suggested a chamberlain of the ancient court in the
service of a princess.
Mademoiselle de Vermont disliked bright colors, and wore on this occasion
a robe of black velvet, of which the 'decolletee' bodice set off the
whiteness of her shoulders and her neck, the latter ornamented with a
simple band of cherry-colored velvet, without jewels, as was suitable for
a young girl. Long suede gloves, buttoned to the elbow, outlined her
well-modelled arms, of which the upper part emerged, without sleeves,
from lace ruffles gathered in the form of epaulets.
The men admired her; the women sought some point to criticise, and had
the eyes of Madame Desvanneaux been able to throw deadly projectiles,
her powerful lorgnette would have become an instrument of death for the
object of her resentment.
"This morning," said the irreconcilable matron, "she showed us her
ankles; this evening she allows us to see the remainder."
"I should have been very well pleased, however--" murmured young
Desvanneaux, with regret.
"If you had married her, Victor," said his mother, "I should have taken
full charge of her wardrobe, and should have made some decided changes,
I assure you."
Perfectly indifferent to the general curiosity, Zibeline in her turn
calmly reviewed the audience. After exploring the boxes with her opera-
glass, she lowered it to examine the orchestra stalls, and, perceiving
the Marquis, she fixed her gaze upon him. Undoubtedly she knew the
reason for the particular attention which he paid to the stage, because,
until the end of the act, her glance was divided alternately between the
General and the actress.
As the curtain fell on this act the spectators turned their backs to the
footlights, and Lenaieff, indicating Zibeline to his friend, said in his
slightly Slavonic accent:
"Who is that pretty woman, my dear Henri?"
"One of Jules Verne's personages, a product of the land of furs."
"Do you know her?"
"Not at all. I have a prejudice against girls that are too rich. Why do
you ask?"
"Because it seems to me that she looks at you very attentively."
"Indeed! I had not noticed it."
In saying this, the General--exaggerated! He had been perfectly well
aware of the gaze of Mademoiselle de Vermont, but whether he still
cherished a slight resentment against the lady, or whether her appearance
really displeased him, he cut the conversation short and went to pay his
respects to the occupants of several boxes.
Evidently Zibeline knew few persons in society, for no visitor appeared
in her box. However, after the next act she made a sign to M. Durand.
That gentleman rejoined the Baron de Samoreau in the corridor and took
him to meet Zibeline, and a sort of council appeared to be going on in
the rear of her box.
"What the deuce can she be talking about to them?" said Desvanneaux to
his wife.
"A new offer of marriage, probably. They say she declares she will marry
no one of lower rank than a prince, in order to complete our chagrin!
Perhaps they have succeeded in finding one for her!"
The instructions that Mademoiselle de Vermont gave to the two men must
have been easy to execute, for neither the notary nor the banker seemed
to raise the least objection. The conversation was finished, and both
gentlemen saluted her, preparing to take leave, when she said to
M. Durand:
"You understand that the meeting is for tomorrow?"
"At five o'clock," he replied.
"Very well. I will stop for you at your door at a quarter of an hour
before that time."
The fourth act had begun, that scene in which Adrienne accomplishes her
generous sacrifice in furnishing herself the ransom which must deliver
her unfaithful lover. The rapt attention that Zibeline paid to this
scene, and the slight movements of her head, showed her approval of this
disinterested act. Very touching in her invocation to her "old
Corneille," Mademoiselle Gontier was superb at the moment when the
comedienne, knowing at last who is her rival, quotes from Racine that
passage in 'Phedre' which she throws, so to speak, in the face of the
patrician woman:
. . . . Je sais ses perfidies,
OEnone! et ne suis point de ces femmes hardies
Qui, goutant dans la crime une honteuse paix,
Ont su se faire un front qui ne rougit jamais.
From the place she was to obliged to take in the arrangement of the
scene, the apostrophe and the gestures of the actress appeared to be
unconsciously directed toward Mademoiselle de Vermont, who could not
restrain a startled movement.
"Look! One would think that Zibeline took that allusion for herself,"
said Madame Desvanneaux, whom nothing escaped.
On reentering the greenroom, after two well-deserved recalls, Eugenie
Gontier was soon surrounded by a throng of admirers who had come to
congratulate her upon her success.
"Were you pleased, Henri?" she said in a low tone to the General.
"Enthusiastically!" he replied.
"Ah, then I can die happy!" she said, laughingly.
As she traversed the ranks of her admirers to go to change her costume
for the last act, she found herself face to face with Zibeline, who,
having quickly recovered from her emotion, was advancing on the arm of
the Chevalier de Sainte-Foy.
"My dear child," said the old nobleman to the actress, "I bring to you
Mademoiselle de Vermont, who wishes to say to you herself--"
"That Mademoiselle must be very tired of listening to our praises,"
interrupted Zibeline. "But if the tribute of a foreigner can prove to
her that her prestige is universal, I beg that she will accept these
flowers which I dared not throw to her from my box."
"Really, Mademoiselle, you embarrass me!" Eugenie replied, somewhat
surprised.
"Oh, you need not fear to take them--they are not poisoned!" added
Zibeline, smiling.
And, after a gracious inclination of her head, to which the actress
responded with a deep courtesy, Zibeline took again the arm of her escort
in order to seek her carriage, without waiting for the end of the play.
Three-quarters of an hour later, as, the audience was leaving the
theatre, M. Desvanneaux recounted to whoever chose to listen that
Mademoiselle de Vermont had passed the whole of the last 'entr'acte'
in the greenroom corridor, in a friendly chat with Eugenie Gontier.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Life goes on, and that is less gay than the stories
Men admired her; the women sought some point to criticise