him for her address, and went on my way.

The recollection of this vision, for it was really a vision,
would not leave my mind like so many visions I had seen, and I
looked everywhere for this royally beautiful woman in white.

A few days later there was a great performance at the Opera
Comique. The first person I saw in one of the boxes was
Marguerite Gautier.

The young man whom I was with recognised her immediately, for he
said to me, mentioning her name: "Look at that pretty girl."

At that moment Marguerite turned her opera-glass in our direction
and, seeing my friend, smiled and beckoned to him to come to her.

"I will go and say 'How do you do?' to her," he said, "and will
be back in a moment."

"I could not help saying "Happy man!"

"Why?"

"To go and see that woman."

"Are you in love with her?"

"No," I said, flushing, for I really did not know what to say;
"but I should very much like to know her."