To right and left, between columns of variegated imitation marble, women
were sitting on benches covered with red velvet and viewing the passing
movement of the crowd with an air of fatigue as though the heat had
rendered them languid. In the lofty mirrors behind them one saw the
reflection of their chignons. At the end of the room, in front of the
bar, a man with a huge corporation was drinking a glass of fruit syrup.
But Fauchery, in order to breathe more freely, had gone to the balcony.
La Faloise, who was studying the photographs of actresses hung in frames
alternating with the mirrors between the columns, ended by following
him. They had extinguished the line of gas jets on the facade of the
theater, and it was dark and very cool on the balcony, which seemed
to them unoccupied. Solitary and enveloped in shadow, a young man was
standing, leaning his arms on the stone balustrade, in the recess to the
right. He was smoking a cigarette, of which the burning end shone redly.
Fauchery recognized Daguenet. They shook hands warmly.
"What are you after there, my dear fellow?" asked the journalist.
"You're hiding yourself in holes and crannies--you, a man who never
leaves the stalls on a first night!"
"But I'm smoking, you see," replied Daguenet.
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