"Will the gentlemen eat at the table d'hote?" the servant inquired.

"Yes, of course," replied Dubourg; "we like company--don't we, my friend?"

"Yes, monsieur le ba--yes, my friend," said Menard, being reminded by a blow from his friend's elbow that there was to be no more mention of barons.

Dubourg listened to what the other guests were saying, but the conversation was far from interesting; the tradesmen discussed business, the townspeople talked gossip, and Dubourg failed to discover any Chambertin to dazzle. He paced the floor of the common-room, jingling the few copper coins which he still had in his pocket, and halting now and then in front of Menard to offer him a pinch of snuff; and Menard, for all his depression, looked with unabated respect on the snuff-box which was held out to him.

Suddenly a little man of some fifty years of age, in a cinnamon-colored coat, green breeches, cavalry boots, and a cap with a visor that might at need serve as an umbrella, entered the room, with the air of one full of business, and said in a very loud tone:

"They won't come! they can't come! and my performance has fallen through. I am desperate! my mind is going!"

The little man threw himself into a chair, and was instantly surrounded by all the gossips and guests of the inn.

"What is it, Monsieur Floridor?" queried the hostess; "have your actors gone back on you?"

"Yes, the most necessary and most important ones of the lot: the _jeune premier_, and the n.o.ble father, two talented actors, who would have completed my troupe. The _jeune premier_ was to come from Cambrai, where he has played such parts as Colin and Elleviou for twenty years; he is a man of the most charming, consummate talent. I saw him a month ago, in _Sargine, or Love's Pupil_, for he has been playing the _ingenus_ and young lovers for some years. Ah! how delighted I was! an affecting voice, and a superb figure! a little taller than I am. And in tragic parts--such fire! such spirit! I wept when I saw him do _Tartufe_. As for the n.o.ble father, he is a most invaluable actor. For thirty years he has been the delight of Beaugency, and I saw him act at Doyen's, in Paris, with marvellous success. He takes all sorts of parts--kings, fathers, tyrants, Ca.s.sandras--he can handle anything. He made a specialty of the _n.o.ble fathers'_ roles only because he lost his teeth, which does not prevent his displaying plenty of _bite_ in his diction."

"And why ain't they coming?"

"Why, indeed! Because Colin has an attack of catarrh, forsooth! and the n.o.ble father, having had a row in a wine shop, is locked up for a fortnight. Such things never happen to anybody but me. After taking so much pains to make a pretty theatre out of the old stable, and succeeding too--for I flatter myself that our theatre is charming: an orchestra, pit, three boxes, and a gallery--all on the same level, and tastefully decorated! I would have left the Gren.o.ble theatre out of sight! The people of this town would have been so delighted! They know a good thing when they see it, at Voreppe, and, although there's never been a theatre here, I am sure I should have made a lot of money! I had already let one box to the justice of the peace, who is admitted gratis with his family; and the princ.i.p.al men of the town had sent me word that perhaps they would come!"

The little man paused at last to take breath and wipe his face. Dubourg, who had not lost a word of what he said, seated himself in a corner, evidently meditating some new plan.

"It is annoying, sure enough," said the innkeeper; "I've ordered a new dress for my daughter to wear to the play."

"Annoying, do you say!" repeated Floridor, twisting about on his chair like one possessed; "why, it is enough to drive one to despair! I would give a hundred francs if I could replace my two actors, and a hundred francs is quite a sum, it's equal to one evening's receipts; but, no matter, I would sacrifice it to be able to open my theatre."

These words were overheard by Dubourg, who still held aloof, however, and seemed to pay no heed to what was being said.

"Ah!" said one of the servants; "I wish I knew how to act! it would just suit me to be able to earn a hundred francs."

"I had engaged my two artists for a month, at sixty francs each," said Floridor; "that's pretty high, but we have to pay for real talent."

"Can't you get anybody to take their places?"

"Who, pray? I have made a _tyrant_ of the wigmaker, and a _confidant_ of the carpenter's apprentice, who has a magnificent voice. I have persuaded the constable's wife to play the princesses, and I have made an _ingenue_ of the cooper's widow; those are all I've been able to find in the town; but they do very well, they're jewels. As for myself, I act when it's necessary; but, as I have to prompt too, I can't take any long roles. I have a well-supplied wardrobe: three Spanish costumes, with which the last rope-dancer paid his bill at the wine shop; an old lawyer's gown to make tunics with; two otter-skin caps to serve for turbans, and some curtains I bought at Gren.o.ble to make into cloaks. We were to have opened day after to-morrow, with _Phedre_ and _Le Devin du Village_. In _Phedre_, the carpenter was to do Aricie, because we have only two women; but he's a nice-looking boy, with no beard, and he'd have done very well. As for the other two _confidants_, Ismene and Panope, I intended to declaim their roles from the prompter's box. We should have given _Le Devin du Village_ without music, but that makes it all the prettier; the actors speak instead of singing, and it goes very well; I've seen it given so in many places. What a success we would have had! My Colin was to do Hippolyte; and my n.o.ble father would have been magnificent as Thesee. The wigmaker was cast for Theramene; the fellow has his lines at his tongue's end, he doesn't shave a customer that he doesn't recite 'em; and Hippolyte must needs have the catarrh, and Thesee get into a row at a wine shop! How am I to get out of the sc.r.a.pe?

Oh! if some great actor from Paris or some foreign country would happen to stop here--one of those men who travel so much! But they never come to Voreppe!"

"Supper is served, messieurs," said the maid-servant.

"Your trouble won't interfere with your supper, I take it, Monsieur Floridor," said a tradesman.

"No, indeed. I shall eat my supper as a matter of habit, but I have no appet.i.te. This calamity has cut off my arms and legs."

"But not his tongue," observed Menard, in an undertone, as he prepared to take his place at the table; when Dubourg, stalking majestically forward, halted in front of him and declaimed, waving his right arm about as if he were trying to swim:

"'Oui, puisque je retrouve un ami so fidele, Ma fortune va prendre une face nouvelle; Et deja mon courroux semble s'etre adouci Depuis qu'elle a pris soin de nous rejoindre ici.'"[C]

[C] Aye, since I find a friend so leal and true, Methinks my fortune speedily will change; Even now my wrath seems sensibly allayed, Since she hath taken steps to join us here.

Menard stared at Dubourg in dismay.

"You have found him?" he said; "who? my pupil? is he going to join us here?"

Dubourg trod on Menard's foot, for he saw that Floridor, instead of taking his seat at the table, had stopped and was listening to him. He seized the tutor's arm, and cried:

"'Est-ce toi, chere elise? O jour trois fois heureux!

Que beni soit le ciel, qui te rend a mes voeux, Toi qui, de Benjamin comme moi descendue, Fus de mes premiers ans la compagne a.s.sidue.'"[D]

[D] Is it thou, O dear elise? Thrice happy day!

Thank heaven, which doth restore thee to my prayers, Thee, who, like me, from Benjamin descended, Wast of my early years the comrade true.

"Delicious! delicious!" cried Floridor, clapping his hands, while Menard rolled his eyes about in amazement, looking for this elise whom monsieur le baron addressed; and as he saw no one but the maid-servant, he asked her if her name was elise.

"Is monsieur an actor?" inquired Floridor, walking toward Dubourg, cap in hand.

"I, monsieur!" he replied, pretending to be surprised and annoyed because he had been overheard. "I--I a.s.sure you, monsieur--what ground have you for such an opinion?" he demanded, in a gruff voice, like a villain of melodrama.

"What ground!" cried the little man, delighted beyond words, and seizing Dubourg's hand. "Ah! monsieur, you betrayed yourself just now without knowing it; but even without that I should have recognized you. That voice, that carriage, those n.o.ble and majestic att.i.tudes! None but an actor of the first rank combines all these; and you are such a one; it is useless for you to deny it."

"I see," said Dubourg, smiling with an air of mock modesty, "that it is difficult to conceal anything from you. But my companion and I had fully resolved to retain our incognito."

"Your companion!" cried the little man, leaping for joy; "can it be that monsieur is an actor, too?"

"Unexcelled in tearful roles, superb in tragedy, and absolutely natural in comedy," said Dubourg, while Menard listened with the air of one listening to a language he does not understand. But Floridor did not allow him to remain in that benumbed condition; he threw his arms about Dubourg's neck, he threw his arms about Menard's neck, and would have done the same by the maid if somebody had not stopped him.

"They are sent by heaven!" he cried, rushing about the room like a madman. "I shall open my theatre! we will play _Phedre_, we will make the whole town weep with _Le Devin du Village_!--Master innkeeper, a bottle of your best wine. I have the honor of inviting to supper the two artists who are travelling incognito."

"What does this mean?" Menard asked Dubourg, in an undertone.

"It means that we are the two first actors to the King of Poland, that yonder little magpie has already invited us to supper, and that he is going to do a great deal more for us; further, that you must support what I say, and try not to look like an idiot."

"What, monsieur le baron--you and I pa.s.s ourselves off as actors?"

"Actors are built like other men, Monsieur Menard; Roscius was admitted to the presence of Sylla, Garrick is buried beside the kings of England, Moliere was an actor, and none the less a great man; and two of the great authors of our own time have acted, and sacrificed none of their merit by so doing."

"But, monsieur le baron, I have never acted."

"Nor have I; but that doesn't alarm me."

"But suppose it should become known, what will people say?"

"It won't become known, as we are incognito."

"But I have no memory; I shall never be able to remember a role."

"They'll prompt you."

"But I am very timid, and I shall never dare to appear in public."