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that evening awaited the appearance of Evelyn with no little anxiety, which increased on perceiving that she was quite hemmed in by the quick-eyed Christina in front, the Duchesse de Mercœur on one side, and, to her great surprise, Louis took his place on the other, and, regardless of the eagerness with which she was watching the stage, drew her into conversation. She could scarcely disguise her preoccupation. Like most persons utterly unused to deception, she could not imagine how it was to be managed; and her thoughts conjured up every probable and improbable embarrassment that might occur. The actors, too, diverted her attention, with all the fascination their art ever exercises over the unaccustomed; by degrees her eyes fixed upon the