“Yes--in short, a carriage. That is very well for a young man of twenty-three. But when I told him that we were going to pay a visit to such agreeable people, he no longer hesitated to accompany us. Wife, this is Monsieur Roquencourt, who, as I was saying just now, used to act so well! Dieu! how you did make me laugh when you recited Mascarille!” Monsieur Roquencourt seemed at first rather surprised to find so large a party, brought by a man whom he had seen but once; but the instant that the subject of acting was mentioned, his features dilated, his eyes gleamed, and he exclaimed: “Yes, pardieu! I should say that I have acted! and before Dugazon, Larive and many others!” “That is what I told my wife and Monsieur Mouillé, that you acted before Dugazon. My dear, monsieur acted before Dugazon!” “Mascarille is a fine part, very long; but, although I was very good in it, especially when I said: _‘Vivat Mascarillus, fourbum imperator----’_” “Ah! charming! delightful! isn’t it, wife? What did I tell you? _Fourbum 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 Mouillé, didn’t you disguise yourself as Figaro once, to go to a magnificent ball given by a contractor?” “No, monsieur, I went as Pinçon, 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 Mouillé, it seems to me that you have grown since last year.” “Three lines,” replied Monsieur Mouillé 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: