"We took him a melodrama to read, called _Kenilworth Castle;_ Warez read it. He was not very much struck with the work. When we went, yesterday, for his answer, 'Gentlemen,' he said to us, 'will you allow me to read your play to M. Picard?' 'Ah!' replies Soulié, 'in order that he can steal the idea from us. 'What! Monsieur Soulié,' exclaims Warez, 'steal your play from you--an Academician!' 'Well,' says Soulié, 'three-fourths of the Academicians certainly steal their places, why should they stick at stealing other people's work?' I need not tell you, my dear friend, that that meant another closed door! I had some sort of an idea of going to Mademoiselle Lévesque, who is all powerful at the theatre, to offer her the part of Marie Stuart, which is magnificent...." "Well?" "You know what happened to Casimir Delavigne, at the reading of the _Vêpres siciliennes_, at the Théâtre-Français?" "Yes, the piece was refused." "Not merely was the piece refused, but, as every voter is obliged to give a reason for his refusal, one of the ladies refused 'because the work was badly _written_.'" "And Mademoiselle Lévesque refused yours for the same reason?" "No; but she said that, at the _present_ moment, she had so many new parts, she could not possibly undertake _ours."_ "The devil take it! It would seem that actresses do not need to study so hard as authors.... Ah! my dear friend, why did you not tell me of my ignorance and that I have everything to learn?" "Don't put yourself out about that, dear fellow; you will soon learn all you need.... Stay, my mother is beckoning to us to come. Let us go in to dinner." We went in, and I was introduced to Madame Arnault,--I was already acquainted with Lucien, Telleville and Louis. I had seen M. Arnault at the famous shooting expedition in Tillet Wood, but I had not had the honour of speaking to him. He had asked to be given a good position in the wood; and he had been put where, as M. Deviolaine had said, the deer could not fail to pass by. M. Arnault, who could not see two gun-lengths off, had wiped the glasses of his spectacles, sat down, produced a memorandum-book and a pencil, and began to write a fable that had been running in his head since the previous day. In a quarter of an hour, he heard a noise in the underwood: he laid down his pocket-book and pencil, took up his gun and pointed it ready for action as soon as the animal should pass by. "Oh, monsieur," a woman cried out, "don't shoot! You will kill my cow!" "Are you quite sure it is your cow, and not a roebuck?" M. Arnault then asked her. "Oh, monsieur, you will see...." And the woman, running up to the cow, hung on the animal's tail, which she pulled so hard that the poor beast began to moo. "You are right," said M. Arnault; "I think I am mistaken." And he sat down again, laid his gun on the ground, took up his pencil and note-book and resumed his fable, which he composedly finished.