standing, as we had arranged, at the head of the Rue Saint-André-des-Arcs, while I proceeded on foot to the doors of the Comédie. I was surprised not to find Marcel awaiting me there, as he was to have done. However, I nursed my impatience for an hour, mingling with a crowd of footmen, and keeping a sharp look-out on all passers-by.
At last, when the clock had struck seven, and I still saw no sign of our plans being carried out, I bought a ticket for the pit, and went in to see whether I could discover Manon and G——— M——— in the boxes. Neither of them were there. I returned to the door, where I spent
another quarter of an hour in an agony of impatience and anxiety. Nothing rewarding my vigilance, I walked back to the coach, utterly at a loss as to what my next step should be. The driver, as soon as he caught sight of me, came forward to meet me, and informed me with an air of great mystery, that a pretty young lady had been waiting for me in the coach for more than an hour. She had described my appearance so accurately that he was sure it was I whom she wanted to see; and, on learning that I was coming back to the coach, she had remarked that she was in no hurry and would wait for me.
I jumped to the conclusion that it was Manon; but the
