"You have surely seen the opera before ?" "Never," said Newman.

"I am sure I should have remembered it.
Donna Elvira reminds me of Madame de Cintre; I don't mean in her circumstances, but in the music she sings." "It is a very nice distinction," laughed the marquis lightly.

"There is no great possibility, I imagine, of Madame de Cintre being forsaken." "Not much!" said Newman.

"But what becomes of the Don ?" "The devil comes down--or comes up," said Madame de Bellegarde, "and carries him off.

I suppose Zerlina reminds you of me." "I will go to the foyer for a few moments," said the marquis, "and give you a chance to say that the commander--the man of stone--resembles me." And he passed out of the box.
The little marquise stared an instant at the velvet ledge of the balcony, and then murmured, "Not a man of stone, a man of wood." Newman had taken her husband's empty chair.