When the show ended, Phillipe remained in his box, watching the audience clear out. Only when the last of the lingerers had begun heading toward the exits did Phillipe descend from his box. By then, he'd had plenty of time since the end of the show to talk himself into making an appearance at the saloon before leaving. No doubt it would be filled with social acquaintances, which required tending from time to time. Phillipe could go in for a glass of champagne and a smoke, and then his social obligations for the opera and for whoever showed up today would be paid for at least a month.
When he arrived at the saloon, he was greeted by three different reactions. Those who knew him greeted him with enthusiasm that came more from their desire to be seen than any genuine emotion for Phillipe. Those who recognized him but didn't know him personally whispered and stared. Those who neither knew nor recognized him furrowed their brows and tried to figure out why so much attention was being paid to such a sour young man.
It was to the first group that he went and sat among. Immediately he was provided with a glass of champagne and a cigar, which rested delicately between Phillipe's thin lips and filled his lungs with comforting smoke.