"Ah! charming! delightful! isn't it, wife? What did I tell you? _Fourb.u.m imperator_!--Stop your noise, children!"

"I had other parts that I preferred. First of all, Figaro. Ah! Figaro!

the costume is so pretty, and it was so becoming to me!"

"Yes, the costume must have been very becoming to you. Monsieur Mouille, didn't you disguise yourself as Figaro once, to go to a magnificent ball given by a contractor?"

"No, monsieur, I went as Pincon, in _Je fais mes Farces_."

"Oh! that is different."

"To return to my costume," said Monsieur Roquencourt, "it was white and cherry, and made of silk throughout. I believe I have it yet."

"White and cherry; and you have it yet! Ah! if you would put it on, how kind it would be of you!"

Caroline, who had not uttered a word during this whole conversation, now leaned over to me and whispered:

"Have these people come here with the purpose of making fun of my uncle?"

"No, there is another motive, which I will tell you."

Monsieur Roquencourt looked at Giraud a moment, but replied good-naturedly:

"Oh, no! I can't wear that costume again. It was twenty-five years ago when I wore it, and since that time I have taken on flesh, a great deal of flesh!"

"Yes, it is true, in twenty-five years one does change, one does grow fat.--Monsieur Mouille, it seems to me that you have grown since last year."

"Three lines," replied Monsieur Mouille with a bow.

"Three lines! the deuce! You will make a fine man! Mademoiselle has a fine figure too, one of those graceful and slender figures which make it impossible for a small man to offer her his arm."

It was Caroline to whom this complimentary speech was addressed. She glanced at me with an impatient gesture, but Giraud, who thought that he had done the most graceful thing in the world in praising fine figures, had not thought of Monsieur Roquencourt, who was very short. The uncle stepped forward into the centre of the circle and said:

"Monsieur, you are greatly mistaken when you say that a man of medium height should not offer his arm to a tall woman; Mademoiselle Contat was by no means short, and she certainly found me a most satisfactory escort."

"Oh, Monsieur Roquencourt! Why, that is not what I said, or what I meant to say! The devil! let us understand each other. Little man! deuce take it! why, everybody knows that the heroes, the Alexanders, the Fredericks, the Napoleons, were all men of short stature. Isn't that so, Monsieur Mouille?--Wife, for heaven's sake, make your daughter stop her noise."

"And on the stage, monsieur, it is much better to be short than tall, for the stage makes everyone appear taller."

"That is what I have said twenty times to my wife,--the stage makes people taller; and you know something about it, Monsieur Roquencourt."

"Yes, indeed I do. A tall man cannot play Figaro, or Mascarille, or Scapin.--Ah! how quick and active I was as Scapin! I had my portrait painted in the character."

"Your portrait as Scapin! Was it exhibited in the Salon?"

"They wanted to paint me as Monsieur de Crac too."

"Monsieur de Crac! My wife is still laughing because I repeated some scenes to her, after you. Ah! Monsieur Roquencourt! if you would only be good enough--Monsieur Mouille has never seen Monsieur de Crac,--Have you, Monsieur Mouille?"

"I beg your pardon," replied the young man, "I think that I have seen it acted at Bobino's."

"Ha! ha! at Bobino's, eh?" cried Monsieur Roquencourt. "Pardieu! that must have been fine! A difficult role like that! In the first place, you must be careful about the accent:[2]

"De facon que de loin sur le pauvre animal Le perdreau, sans mentir, semblait etre a cheval, Et ft reste longtemps dans la meme posture, Si mon chien n'avait pris cavalier et monture.

Eh donc, que dites-vous?"

[2] That is, the Gascon accent.

During this declamation, Giraud stamped on the floor and pretended to writhe with pleasure on his chair; Madame Giraud was occupied solely in keeping her children quiet, and Monsieur Mouille did not stir.

"Ah! bravo! bravo!" cried Giraud. "I say, wife, you never heard such acting as that, did you?--Monsieur Mouille, you should consider yourself very fortunate to have come to Saint-Mande with us! very fortunate in every respect, indeed, for there is everything here that can seduce and fascinate!--Oh! Monsieur Roquencourt, something else--just a fragment or two."

"I wonder if this sort of thing is going to last long," Caroline whispered to me. I smiled but said nothing. Monsieur Roquencourt did not wait to be asked twice. He stepped forward again to the centre of the salon:

"Here is a pa.s.sage from the scene in which he is asked about his son; and it is his son himself who questions him, unrecognized by him."

"Ah, yes! I see.--Wife, somebody asks him about his son. Attention, Monsieur Mouille! And it is his son himself. Do you understand?"

"I don't understand at all," replied the young man.

"Yes, you do; yes, you do.--Hush! be quiet, children!"

".... Il sert contre le Russe; Mais il sert tout de bon. Ah! le feu roi de Prusse, Savait l'apprecier; et le grand Frederic, En fait d'opinion, valait tout un public.

Il admirait mon fils--J'en ai----"

Monsieur Roquencourt was interrupted in his declamation by the cook, who rushed into the room, exclaiming:

"Mon Dieu! what on earth is this dog that's just come here, mademoiselle? He came into my kitchen and jumped at everything there is there; he ate at one gulp the remains of the chicken that was on the table, and he's just carried off the leg of mutton that was for your dinner."

"Oh! it's because he's thirsty!" cried Giraud; "give him some water; he was very hot, give him some water, if you please, and then he will fawn all over you."

"Monsieur," said Caroline, rising and walking forward, with a very decided air, toward Giraud, "I am very sorry, but you really must give your dog water somewhere else; my uncle should remember that we have to go out this morning, we have very little time, and we cannot have the pleasure of detaining you any longer."

As she said this, Caroline gave her uncle a glance which he understood very clearly, and he faltered:

"Yes--yes, I believe that we have to go out."

Giraud seemed thunderstruck; he looked at his wife, who looked at Monsieur Mouille, who looked at his trousers to see if they were creased.

However, the family rose; the dandified young man followed their example, and Giraud bowed low, saying:

"As you have an engagement, of course we do not desire to detain you; another time I trust that we shall be more fortunate, and that we may form a connection of which the fortunate result--Monsieur Mouille, present your respects to mademoiselle. Bow, children.--Monsieur Roquencourt, we shall not forget your great amiability.--Azor! here, Azor! Azor! Oh! he will certainly come.--Au revoir, my dear Blemont."

The family backed out of the room, bowing, and Giraud whispered in my ear:

"Has she a previous attachment? If this young man doesn't suit her, I have others to offer. Write me what she has said to you."

They left the salon at last, and they succeeded in finding Azor, who rushed out of the house with a mutton bone in his teeth.

When the visitors had gone, Caroline said to the maid and the gardener: