“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 Napoléons, were all men of short stature. Isn’t that so, Monsieur Mouillé?--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 Mouillé has never seen Monsieur de Crac,--Have you, Monsieur Mouillé?” “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 rôle like that! In the first place, you must be careful about the accent:[2] “Dé façon qué dé loin sur lé pauvre animal Lé perdreau, sans mentir, semblait être à chéval, Et fût resté longtemps dans la même 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 Mouillé did not stir. “Ah! bravo! bravo!” cried Giraud. “I say, wife, you never heard such acting as that, did you?--Monsieur Mouillé, you should consider yourself very fortunate to have come to Saint-Mandé 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 passage 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 Mouillé! And it is his son himself. Do you understand?”