Fine Arts, had adjusted the difficulties which had hitherto kept the
doors of the Comedie closed upon her. A really charming man was
Dauvergne, the embodiment of graciousness, the very flower of the
Monferrand ministry. His was the velvet hand in that administration whose
leader had a hand of iron.

"He told me, my beauty," said Duthil, "that a pretty girl was in place
everywhere." And then as Silviane, as if flattered, pressed closely
beside him, the deputy added: "So that wonderful revival of 'Polyeucte,'
in which you are going to have such a triumph, is to take place on the
day after to-morrow. We shall all go to applaud you, remember."

"Yes, on the evening of the day after to-morrow," said Silviane, "the
very same day when the wedding of the Baron's daughter will take place.
There'll be plenty of emotion that day!"

"Ah! yes, of course!" retorted Duthil, "there'll be the wedding of our
friend Gerard with Mademoiselle Camille to begin with. We shall have a
crush at the Madeleine in the morning and another at the Comedie in the
evening. You are quite right, too; there will be several hearts throbbing
in the Rue Godot-de-Mauroy."

Thereupon they again became merry, and jested about the Duvillard
family--father, mother, lover and daughter--with the greatest possible
ferocity and crudity of language. Then, all at once Silviane exclaimed:
"Do you know, I'm feeling awfully bored here, my little Duthil. I can't
distinguish anything, and I should like to be quite near so as to see it
all plainly. You must take me over yonder, close to that machine of
theirs."