then we went out and, in the lobby, communicated our impressions to each other and talked about `the shape.' the misfortune was that my shape was not in the least like richard's.i had seen a thing like a death's head resting on the ledge of the box, whereas richard saw the shape of an old woman who looked like mme.giry.we soon discovered that we had really been the victims of an illusion, whereupon, without further delay and laughing like madmen, we ran to box five on the grand tier, went inside and found no shape of any kind."box five is just like all the other grand tier boxes.there is nothing to distinguish it from any of the others.m.moncharmin and m.richard, ostensibly highly amused and laughing at each other, moved the furniture of the box, lifted the cloths and the chairs and particularly examined the arm-chair in which "the man's voice"used to sit.but they saw that it was a respectable arm-chair, with no magic about it.altogether, the box was the most ordinary box in the world, with its red hangings, its chairs, its carpet and its ledge covered in red velvet.after, feeling the carpet in the most serious manner possible, and discovering nothing more here or anywhere else, they went down to the corresponding box on the pit tier below.
in box five on the pit tier, which is just inside the first exit from the stalls on the left, they found nothing worth mentioning either.
"those people are all making fools of us!" firmin richard ended by exclaiming."it will be faust on saturday: let us both see the performance from box five on the grand tier!"