residence. By the end of the week, the
husband and wife, one trembling for his life, the other regretting her
admirer, arrived at Nice, where, towards the close of the autumn, they
were joined by Dr Magnian, who thus showed himself scrupulously exact in
the fulfilment of his promise.

On an evening of the month of April following, the tragedy of _Les
Horaces_ was performed at the _Theatre Francais_. Thanks to the young
talent of Mademoiselle Rachel, rather than to the old genius of
Corneille, the house was crowded. In the centre of the right-hand
balcony, Captain Pelletier, accompanied by some blusterers of the same
kidney, talked loud, laughed ditto, criticised the actors and
spectators, and disturbed all his neighbours, without any one venturing
to call him to order; so powerful, in certain cases, is the influence of
an insolent look, a ferocious mustache, and an elephantine build.

After examining with his opera glass every corner of the theatre, from
the pit to the roof, the Captain at last caught sight of a group, snugly
installed in a comfortable box, which at once fixed his attention. It
consisted of Monsieur and Madame Bouchereau, in front, and of Doctor
Magnian, seated behind the lady. The appearance and attitude of these
three persons were characteristic. With his usual pallid complexion and
unhappy look, his eyes adorned with a pair of blue spectacles--a new
embellishment, which he owed to an imaginary ophthalmia--the pacific
husband whiled away the _entr'acte_ by the study of a play-bill, which
he abandoned when the curtain rose, to bestow his deepest attention on
the actors, even though none but the inferior characters were on the
stage. Madame Bouchereau trifled with an elegant nosegay, whose perfume
she frequently inhaled, and whose crimson flowers contrasted so well
with the fairness of her complexion, as to justify a suspicion that
there was some coquetry in the manoeuvre executed with such apparent
negligence. Leaning back in her chair, she frequently turned her head,
the better to hear Magnian's smiling and half-whispered remarks. The
husband paid no attention to their conversation, and did not seem to
remark its intimate and confidential character.

"Who is it you have been looking at for the last quarter of an hour?"
inquired one of the Captain's comrades. "At your old flame, Madame
Bouchereau? I thought you had forgotten her long ago."

"I did not know she had returned from Nice," replied Pellet