ON the second night of the opera the applications for places were too numerous to be received. Among the crowded audience, Irecognized many of my friends. They persisted in believing an absurd report (first circulated, as I imagine, by the Doctor), which asserted that my interest in the new singer was something more than the interest of an old friend. When I went behind the scenes to congratulate Jeanne on her success, I was annoyed in another way--and by the Doctor again. He followed me to Jeanne's room, to offer _his_ congratulations; and he begged that I would introduce him to the charming prima donna. Having expressed his admiration, he looked at me with his insolently suggestive smile, and said he could not think of prolonging his intrusion. On leaving the room, he noticed Uncle David, waiting as usual to take care of Jeanne on her return from the theater--looked at him attentively--bowed, and went out.
The next morning, I received a note from the Baroness, expressed in these terms:
