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'_Appearances. A Drama in Three Acts. Dramatis Personae_....'

The ladies, getting as close round as they could, drew themselves
together with the charming little shiver which is their way of
anticipating enjoyment. Danjou read like a genuine 'Player' of
Picheral's classification, making lengthy pauses while he moistened
his lips with his glass of water, and wiped them with a fine cambric
handkerchief. As he finished each of the long broad pages, scribbled all
over with his tiny handwriting, he let-it fall carelessly at his feet
on the carpet Each time Madame de Foder, who hunts the 'lions' of all
nations, stooped noiselessly, picked up the fallen sheet, and placed it
reverently upon an armchair beside her, exactly square with the sheets
before, contriving, in this subtle and delicate way, to take a certain
part in the great man's work. It was as if Liszt or Rubinstein had been
at the piano and she had been turning over the music. All went well till
the end of Act I., an interesting and promising introduction, received
with a _furore_ of delighted exclamations, rapturous laughter, and
enthusiastic applause. After a long pause, in which was audible from
the far distance of the park the hum of the insects buzzing about the
tree-tops, the reader wiped his moustache, and resumed:

_Act II The scene represents_... But here his voice began to break, and
grew huskier with every speech. He had just seen an empty chair among
the ladies in the first row; it was Antonia's chair; and his glances
strayed over his eye-glass searching the whole huge room. It was full
of green plants and screens, behind which the auditors had ensconced
themselves to hear--or to sleep--undisturbed. At last, in one of the
numerous and regular intervals provided by his glass of water, he caught
a whisper, then a glimpse of a light dress, then, at the far end, on
a sofa, he saw the Duchess with Paul beside her, continuing the
conversation interrupted on the gallery. To one like Danjou, spoiled
with every kind of success, the affront was deadly. But he nerved
himself to finish the Act, throwing his pages down on the floor with a
violence which made them fly, and sent little Madame de Foder crawling
after them on all fours. At the end of the Act, as the whispering still
went on, he left off, pretending that he was suddenly taken hoarse and
must defer the rest till the next day. The Duchess, absorbed in the
duel, of which she could not hear enough, su