Now a woman as beautiful as Esther, and dressed as Esther was, could not show off with impunity in a stage-box at the Porte-Saint-Martin.  And so, during the second act, there was quite a commotion in the box where the two dancers were sitting, caused by the undoubted identity of the unknown fair one with La Torpille.

“Heyday! where has she dropped from?” said Mariette to Madame du Val-Noble.  “I thought she was drowned.”

“But is it she?  She looks to me thirty-seven times younger and handsomer than she was six years ago.”

“Perhaps she has preserved herself in ice like Madame d’Espard and Madame Zayonchek,” said the Comte de Brambourg, who had brought the three women to the play, to a pit-tier box.  “Isn’t she the ‘rat’ you meant to send me to hocus my uncle?” said he, addressing Tullia.

“The very same,” said the singer.  “Du Bruel, go down to the stalls and see if it is she.”

“What brass she has got!” exclaimed Madame du Val-Noble, using an expressive but vulgar phrase.

“Oh!” said the Comte de Brambourg, “she very well may.  She is with my friend the Baron de Nucingen—­I will go——­”

“Is that the immaculate Joan of Arc who has taken Nucingen by storm, and who has been talked of till we are all sick of her, these three months past?” asked Mariette.

“Good-evening, my dear Baron,” said Philippe Bridau, as he went into Nucingen’s box.  “So here you are, married to Mademoiselle Esther.  —­Mademoiselle, I am an old officer whom you once on a time were to have got out of a scrape—­at Issoudun—­Philippe Bridau——­”

“I know nothing of it,” said Esther, looking round the house through her opera-glasses.

“Dis lady,” said the Baron, “is no longer known as ‘Esther’ so short!  She is called Montame de Champy—­ein little estate vat I have bought for her——­”

“Though you do things in such style,” said the Comte, “these ladies are saying that Madame de Champy gives herself too great airs.—­If you do not choose to remember me, will you condescend to recognize Mariette, Tullia, Madame du Val-Noble?” the parvenu went on—­a man for whom the Duc de Maufrigneuse had won the Dauphin’s favor.

“If these ladies are kind to me, I am willing to make myself pleasant to them,” replied Madame de Champy drily.

“Kind!  Why, they are excellent; they have named you Joan of Arc,” replied Philippe.

“Vell den, if dese ladies vill keep you company,” said Nucingen, “I shall go ’vay, for I hafe eaten too much.  Your carriage shall come for you and your people.—­Dat teufel Asie!”

“The first time, and you leave me alone!” said Esther.  “Come, come, you must have courage enough to die on deck.  I must have my man with me as I go out.  If I were insulted, am I to cry out for nothing?”

The old millionaire’s selfishness had to give way to his duties as a lover.  The Baron suffered but stayed.

Esther had her own reasons for detaining “her man.”  If she admitted her acquaintance, she would be less closely questioned in his presence than if she were alone.  Philippe Bridau hurried back to the box where the dancers were sitting, and informed them of the state of affairs.