There was no particular reason why, after having left the Opera House, I should have retraced my steps and taken my place once more amongst the throng of people who stood about in the _entresol_, exchanging greetings and waiting for their carriages. A backward glance as I had been about to turn into the Place de l'Opera had arrested my somewhat hurried departure. The night was young, and where else was such a sight to be seen? Besides, was it not amongst some such throng as this that the end of my search might come? I took up my place just inside, close to one of the pillars, and, with an unlit cigarette still in my mouth, watched the flying _chausseurs_, the medley of vehicles outside, the…
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