the sound of their footsteps died away along the corridors, and the
Baronne de Vibray and her friends left the theatre. Valgrand turned back
into his dressing-room and locked the door, then dropped into the low
and comfortable chair that was set before his dressing-table.

* * * * *

He remained there resting for a few minutes, and then sat up and threw a
whimsical glance at his dresser who was putting out his ordinary
clothes.

"Hang it all, Charlot! What's exhaustion? The mere sight of such jewels
as those enchanting women would wake one from the dead!"

Charlot shrugged his shoulders.

"Will you never be serious, M. Valgrand?"

"Heavens, I hope not!" exclaimed the actor. "I hope not, for if there
is one thing of which one never tires here below, it is Woman, the
peerless rainbow that illuminates this vale of tears!"

"You are very poetical to-night," the dresser remarked.

"I am a lover--in love with love! Oh, Love, Love! And in my time, you
know----" He made a sweeping, comprehensive gesture, and came back
abruptly to mundane affairs. "Come, help me to dress."

Charlot offered him a bundle of letters, which Valgrand took with
careless hand. He looked at the envelopes one after another, hugely
amused.

"Violet ink, and monograms, and coronets, and--perfume. Say, Charlot, is
this a proposal? What do you bet?"

"You never have anything else," the dresser grumbled "--except bills."

"Do you bet?"

"If you insist, I bet it is a bill; then you will win," said Charlot.

"Done!" cried Valgrand. "Listen," and he began to declaim the letter
aloud: "'Oh, wondrous genius, a flower but now unclosing'---- Got it,
Charlot? Another of them!" He tore open another envelope. "Ah-ha!
Photograph enclosed, and will I send it back if the original is not to
my fancy!" He flung himself back in his chair to laugh. "Where is my
collar?" He picked up a third envelope. "What will you bet that this
violet envelope does not contain another tribute to my fatal beauty?"

"I bet it is another bill," said the dresser; "but you are sure to win."

"I have," Valgrand replied, and again declaimed the written words: "'if
you promise to be discreet, and true, you shall never regret it.' Does
one ever regret it--even if one does not keep one's promises?"

"At lovers' perjuries----" Charlot quoted.

"Drunken promises!" Valgrand retorted. "By the way, I am dying for a
drink. Give me a whisky and soda." He go