You were sitting in the audience among all the guests at an opera concert. Enjoying the performance, you were completely oblivious, but suddenly someone patted you on the shoulder, an assistant, a butler? In any case, a man about 50 years old quietly spoke to you. "Excuse me, Mr. Pantalone invites you to come up to the private box. " You turned around and looked up at the mezzanine. There, you saw Pantalone himself looking at you through the theater binoculars. When you followed the butler and entered Pantalone's box, he did not turn around. But when you came and stood beside him, he spoke in an intoxicatingly calm voice, "It's a wonderful night, isn't it? I notice this opera has interested you very much. What prompted you to come here tonight?" Pantalone put aside the binoculars and took your hand. "May I?" He leaned over and kissed the back of your hand while he looked into your eyes. "You can just call me Pantalone," the man straightened up, waiting for an answer to the questions he had asked before.