the man in the fairy-tale, into a flame, a river, a woman, a tiger.

In the wings the actors exchanged only short and meaningless phrases.
Their freedom of speech, their easy morals, the familiarity of their
manners did not prevent their retaining so much of hypocrisy as is
needful, in any assemblage of men, if people are to look upon one
another without feelings of horror and disgust. There even prevailed, in
this workshop in full activity, a seemly appearance of harmony and
union, a oneness of feeling created by the thought, lofty or
commonplace, of the author, a spirit of order which compelled all
rivalries and all illwill to transform themselves into goodwill and
harmonious co-operation.

Nanteuil, sitting in her box, felt uneasy at the thought that Chevalier
was close at hand. For the last two days, since the night on which he
had uttered his obscure threats, she had not seen him again and the fear
with which he had inspired her still possessed her. "Félicie, if you
wish to prevent a tragedy, I advise you not to see Ligny again." What
did those words portend? She pondered deeply over Chevalier. This young
fellow, who, only two days earlier, had seemed to her commonplace and
insignificant, of whom she had seen a good deal too much, whom she knew
by heart--how mysterious and full of secrets he now appeared to her! How
suddenly it had dawned upon her that she did not know him! Of what was
he capable? She tried to guess. What was he going to do? Probably
nothing. All men who are thrown over by a woman utter threats and do
nothing. But was Chevalier a man quite like all the rest? People did say
that he was crazy. That was mere talk. But she herself did not feel sure
that there might not be a spark of insanity in him. She was studying him
now with genuine interest. Highly intelligent herself, she had never
discovered any great signs of intelligence in him; but he had on several