There is nothing that penetrates the heart, and prepares it for love, like music.

The curtain had risen, and Horace had recounted to Juliano his adventure with the beautiful unknown, without exciting the slightest interest on the part of Eusebe. The heroes of Scribe talked of love, a something unknown to the provincial, who would have been wholly ignorant of the word, had he not met with it in pronouncing his prayers.

The entrance of the two masked women made a strange impression on him. His heart beat violently, the blood rushed to his temples, a cold, trembling sensation pervaded his whole frame, and when the woman who personated AngÈle removed her black velvet mask, he experienced one of those indescribable sensations of delight which nature accords to those only who have not sinned against her.

Trembling, and his eyes intently fixed on the lips of the cantatrice, Eusebe Martin forgot the universe: he felt his blood coursing rapidly through his veins, and his heart expand within his breast.

He remained in his seat between the acts. One thought alone occupied him: should he see the beautiful creature again who had produced such a magic effect on him? He closed his eyes, in order the better to see her in imagination.

Meanwhile the curtain rose for the second time. During the first three scenes AngÈle did not appear. Her absence was the first real disappointment Eusebe had ever experienced. Up to that time his life had been as calm and monotonous as the surface of a lake.

All at once his heart leaped with joy: she had just entered. Pale and agitated, he did not breathe freely until the good Jacinthe had promised that she would do all in her power to conceal AngÈle.

“Excellent woman!” cried Eusebe.

His neighbor at the right could not help smiling, while the lean gentleman on his left gave vent to his feelings by grumbling.

Eusebe paid no attention to these demonstrations. His chin resting on his hands, which he had placed on the back of the chair in front of him, he watched intently the impossible action of the piece. He had already forgotten that what he saw was only fiction. His joy or grief augmented or diminished with the development of the plot. If AngÈle succeeded in extricating herself from one of her thousand difficulties, he breathed again. On the contrary, when a new disaster befell the poor abbess, the heart of Eusebe bled for her, and his eyes filled with tears. Twenty times was he on the point of springing upon the stage and saying, “I will defend you: don’t be afraid.” Fortunately, AngÈle succeeded without his assistance in escaping the snares M. Scribe had prepared for her.

What would the audience have said, what would the police have done, if Eusebe had executed his design? Nothing, probably. The public are amused by madmen, and the police interfere only in cases with which they are familiar. By remaining in his seat, our poor provincial caused himself to be put out-of-doors.

The curtain rose for the third time. AngÈle had just arrived at the convent, and sang the famous rondeau—

She detailed pathetically the perils she had encountered during the frightful night,—recounted her adventures with the drunken soldiers, the thief, who had robbed her of her golden cross, and the student, who was content to steal only a kiss.

The neighbor at the left, a fat man, with a good-natured physiognomy, leaned towards Eusebe and said,—

“How confoundedly stupid! She has succeeded in escaping unperceived,—a miracle!—and now, instead of going to her cell and changing her costume, she remains there like a fool to sing. I would give a trifle if they would come and take her by surprise.”

“You are a wretch!” cried Eusebe. “I am half inclined to strangle you.”

“You are extremely insolent, sir!”

“You are a coward!”

“Chut! chut!” “Silence!” “Out with him!” suggested several voices.

The fat gentleman grasped at the young man’s collar; but Eusebe foiled his design by planting a heavy blow full in his face, which inconvenienced him not a little, but not sufficiently to prevent his calling for assistance. A policeman soon made his appearance, and Eusebe was very unceremoniously shown into the street.

At any other time he would have submitted without a word; but when he thought that the angelic creature with whom he was so charmed had disappeared forever, he thrust the public functionary aside and hurried away like a maniac.