for me. He was always in the same stall, gazing at me with eyes of
fire, but, seemingly, saddened by the distance between us, perhaps by
the hopelessness of reaching me."

"Poor fellow! When a man loves he becomes eminently stupid," said the
marquise.

"Between every act he would slip into the corridor," continued the
princess, smiling at her friend's epigrammatic remark. "Once or twice,
either to see me or to make me see him, he looked through the glass
sash of the box exactly opposite to mine. If I received a visit, I was
certain to see him in the corridor close to my door, casting a furtive
glance upon me. He had apparently learned to know the persons
belonging to my circle; and he followed them when he saw them turning
in the direction of my box, in order to obtain the benefit of the
opening door. I also found my mysterious adorer at the Italian
opera-house; there he had a stall directly opposite to my box, where
he could gaze at me in naive ecstasy--oh! it was pretty! On leaving
either house I always found him planted in the lobby, motionless; he
was elbowed and jostled, but he never moved. His eyes grew less
brilliant if he saw me on the arm of some favorite. But not a word,
not a letter, no demonstration. You must acknowledge that was in good
taste. Sometimes, on getting home late at night, I found him sitting
upon one of the stone posts of the porte-cochere. This lover of mine
had very handsome eyes, a long, thick, fan-shaped beard, with a
moustache and side-whiskers; nothing could be seen of his skin but his
white cheek-bones, and a noble forehead; it was truly an antique head.
The prince, as you know, defended the Tuileries on the riverside,
during the July days. He returned to Saint-Cloud that night, when all
was lost, and said to me: 'I came near being killed at four o'clock. I