There were also, at that time, in the plays in course of representation, a certain number of choruses applicable to current events, and these found a fitting place in the _Parfait Vaudevilliste._ Unfortunately, I did not copy any of them at Soulié's at that period. Three or four months before his death, I begged him to send me his collection: he had lost it. Instead, he sent me five or six of the choruses he remembered; only he could not tell me exactly to what period they belonged; he could only affirm that they were not bastard waifs and strays, as might readily be believed, but acknowledged and legitimate offspring; and, by way of proof, he sent along with them the names of their begetters. These choruses were, of course, the author's exclusive property. He placed them in identical situations: some of them had already done duty ten, twenty, thirty times, and only waited the opportunity to be used a thirty-first time. We will begin with a chorus from the _Barbier châtelain_, by Théaulon: to every man his due. "Bonne nuit! Bonne nuit! Ça soulage, En voyage. Bonne nuit! Bonne nuit! Retirons-nous sans bruit." This became proverbial: directly the scene began, everyone commenced to hum in advance the chorus which came at the end of it. Another chorus, of Brazier and Courcy, in the _Parisien à Londres,_ was also not devoid of merit. Unluckily, the scene it belonged to was so peculiar that it was only used once. Nevertheless, it remained in the memories of a fair number of connoisseurs. It was about a Frenchman who was surprised during a criminal amour and who, when led before his judges, excited a lively curiosity among the audience. So the audience sang:-- "Nous allons voir juger Cet étranger, Qui fut bien léger!... A l'audience, On défend l'innocence, Et l'on sait la venger." The stranger was condemned to marriage, and the audience, satisfied, left, singing the same chorus, with this slight variation:-- "Nous _avons vu_ juger Cet étranger, Qui fut bien léger!... A l'audience, On défend l'innocence, Et l'on sait la venger." But as breakfasts, dinners and suppers are more frequent at theatres than foreigners condemned to espouse Englishwomen, there was a chorus of Dumanoir which, always sung when people were sitting down to the table, gave the public some notion of the drunkenness of the partakers. They sang this:-- "Quel repas Plein d'appas, Où, gai convive, L'Amour arrive!... Quel repas Plein d'appas! On n'en fait pas De pareils ici-bas!"