Fauchery glanced in her direction and then once more set himself to follow the rehearsal.
Only the front of the stage was lit up.

A flaring gas burner on a support, which was fed by a pipe from the footlights, burned in front of a reflector and cast its full brightness over the immediate foreground.
It looked like a big yellow eye glaring through the surrounding semiobscurity, where it flamed in a doubtful, melancholy way.

Cossard was holding up his manuscript against the slender stem of this arrangement.

He wanted to see more clearly, and in the flood of light his hump was sharply outlined.

As to Bordenave and Fauchery, they were already drowned in shadow.