At the entrance to the theatre they were met by a footman.
"Tell the coachman to wait at the door of the Cafe' Anglais," said Marguerite.

"We will walk there." A few minutes afterward I saw Marguerite from the street at a window of one of the large rooms of the restaurant, pulling the camellias of her bouquet to pieces, one by one.

One of the two men was leaning over her shoulder and whispering in her ear.

I took up my position at the Maison-d'or, in one of the first-floor rooms, and did not lose sight of the window for an instant.

At one in the morning Marguerite got into her carriage with her three friends.