"Go on, Madame Doulce, go on, I am listening to you." "And exquisitely polite.

He made a delicate allusion to the indiscretions of the newspapers----" At this moment Monsieur Marchegeay, the stage manager, burst into the room.

His green eyes were glittering, and his red moustache was dancing like a flame.

The words rolled off his tongue: "They are at it again! Lydie, the little super, is screaming like a stoat on the stairs.

She says Delage tried to violate her.