I had now no resource but to promise; which I did, very reluctantly.

"You would enjoy the Opéra Comique far more than the Italiens," said I,
remembering that Madame de Marignan had a box at the Italiens, and
rapidly weighing the chances for and against the possibility of
recognition. "At the first they sing in French--at the last,
in Italian,"

"Ah, bah! I should prefer the French," replied she, falling at once into
the snare. "When shall it be--this week?"

"Ye--es; one evening this week."

"What evening?"

"Well, let me see--we had better wait, and consult the advertisements."

"_Dame_! never mind the advertisements. Let it be Tuesday."

"Why Tuesday?"

"Because it is soon; and because I can get away early on Tuesdays if I
ask leave."

I had, plainly, no chance of escape.

"You would not prefer to see the great military piece at the Porte St.
Martin?" I suggested. "There are three hundred real soldiers in it, and
they fire real cannon."