the reserved seats. Without changing her girlish attitude, Serpolette
gazed at the person who had started the applause and paid him with a
smile, displaying rows of little teeth that looked like a string of
pearls in a case of red velvet.

Tadeo followed her gaze and saw a man in a false mustache with an
extraordinarily large nose. "By the monk's cowl!" he exclaimed. "It's
Irene!"

"Yes," corroborated Sandoval, "I saw him behind the scenes talking
with the actresses."

The truth was that Padre Irene, who was a melomaniac of the first
degree and knew French well, had been sent to the theater by Padre
Salvi as a sort of religious detective, or so at least he told
the persons who recognized him. As a faithful critic, who should
not be satisfied with viewing the piece from a distance, he wished
to examine the actresses at first hand, so he had mingled in the
groups of admirers and gallants, had penetrated into the greenroom,
where was whispered and talked a French required by the situation,
a _market French_, a language that is readily comprehensible for the
vender when the buyer seems disposed to pay well.

Serpolette was surrounded by two gallant officers, a sailor, and a
lawyer, when she caught sight of him moving about, sticking the tip
of his long nose into all the nooks and corners, as though with it
he were ferreting out all the mysteries of the stage. She ceased her
chatter, knitted her eyebrows, then raised them, opened her lips and
with the vivacity of a _Parisienne_ left her admirers to hurl herself
like a torpedo upon our critic.