While there prevailed the passing tumult occasioned by those who
crowded one another to get into the greenroom and felicitate the
actresses and by those who were going to make calls on the ladies in
the boxes, some expressed their opinions of the play and the players.

"Undoubtedly, Serpolette is the best," said one with a knowing air.

"I prefer Germaine, she's an ideal blonde."

"But she hasn't any voice."

"What do I care about the voice?"

"Well, for shape, the tall one."

"Pshaw," said Ben-Zayb, "not a one is worth a straw, not a one is
an artist!"

Ben-Zayb was the critic for _El Grito de la Integridad_, and his
disdainful air gave him great importance in the eyes of those who
were satisfied with so little.

"Serpolette hasn't any voice, nor Germaine grace, nor is that
music, nor is it art, nor is it anything!" he concluded with marked
contempt. To set oneself up as a great critic there is nothing like
appearing to be discontented with everything. Besides, the management
had sent only two seats for the newspaper staff.

In the boxes curiosity was aroused as to who could be the possessor
of the empty one, for that person, would surpass every one in chic,