“You in the greenroom of the ballet, your Excellency?” continued the financier.  “Ah! upon my word, I shall tell Madame Vaudrey.”

Sulpice smiled, the mere name of his wife sounded strange to his ears in a place like this.  It seemed to him that in speaking of her, she was being dragged into a strange circle, and one which did not belong to her.  He had felt the same only a few days before upon his entrance into the cabinet, on seeing a report of his marriage, his dwelling minutely described, and a pen portrait of that Adrienne, who was the passion of his life.

“After all,” continued Molina, “Madame Vaudrey must get used to it.  The Opera!  Why, it is a part of politics!  The key of many a situation is to be found in the greenroom!”

The financier laughed merrily, a laugh that had the ring of the Turcarets’ jingling crowns.

He went on to explain to his Excellency all the little mysteries of the greenroom, as a man quite at home in this little Parisian province, and lightly, by a word, a gesture even, he gave the minister a rapid biography of the young girls who were laughing, jesting, romping there before them; flitting hither and thither lightly across the boards, barely touching them with the tips of their pink satin-shod feet.

Sulpice was surprised at everything he saw.  He did not even take the pains to conceal his surprise.  Evidently it was his first visit behind the scenes.

“Ah! your Excellency,” said Molina, delighted with his role of cicerone, “it is necessary to be at home here!  You should come here often!  Nothing in the world can be more amusing.  Here behind the scenes is a world by itself.  One can see pretty little lasses springing up like asparagus.  One sees running hither and thither a tall, thin child who nods to you saucily and crunches nuts like a squirrel.  One takes a three months’ journey, and passes a season at Vichy or at Dieppe, and when one returns, presto! see the transformation.  The butterfly has burst forth from its cocoon.  No longer a little girl, but a woman.  Those saucy eyes of old now look at you with an expression which disturbs your heart.  One might have offered, six months before, two sous’ worth of chestnuts to the child; now, however, nothing less than a coupe will satisfy the woman.  It used to jump on your knee at that time, now every one is throwing his arms around its pretty neck.  Thus from generation to generation, one assists at the mobilization of a whole army of recruits, who first try their weapons here, pass from here into the regiment of veterans, build themselves a hospital in cut-stone out of their savings, and some of them mount very high through the tips of their toes if they are not suddenly attacked by the malady of the knee.”

“Malady of the knee?” inquired Vaudrey.

“A phrase not to be found in the Dictionary of Political Economy by Maurice Block.  It is a way of saying that ill-luck has overtaken one.  A very interesting condition, this malady of the knee!  It often not only shortens the leg but the career!”