"
Meanwhile the worn-looking artistes were dropping off one after the
other in their outdoor coats. Groups of men and women were coming down
the little winding staircase, and the outlines of battered hats and
worn-out shawls were visible in the shadows. They looked colorless and
unlovely, as became poor play actors who have got rid of their paint.
On the stage, where the side lights and battens were being extinguished,
the prince was listening to an anecdote Bordenave was telling him. He
was waiting for Nana, and when at length she made her appearance the
stage was dark, and the fireman on duty was finishing his round, lantern
in hand. Bordenave, in order to save His Highness going about by the
Passage des Panoramas, had made them open the corridor which led from
the porter's lodge to the entrance hall of the theater. Along this
narrow alley little women were racing pell-mell, for they were delighted
to escape from the men who were waiting for them in the other passage.
They went jostling and elbowing along, casting apprehensive glances
behind them and only breathing freely when they got outside. Fontan,
Bosc and Prulliere, on the other hand, retired at a leisurely pace,
joking at the figure cut by the serious, paying admirers who were
striding up and down the Galerie des Varietes at a time when the little
dears were escaping along the boulevard with the men of their hearts.
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