Mademoiselle Mars had a very large room--the same that Mademoiselle Rachel now has. At the end of each performance the room was always filled with people. Mademoiselle Mars did not trouble herself in the least about her visitors being present; she would undress and take off her paint and rouge with a modest dexterity quite remarkable: she had in particular a way of changing her chemise while talking, without showing anything of her person beyond her finger tips, that was a _tour de force._ When her toilet was complete, those who wished to accompany her home went with her and found a supper ready. The regular attenders at these suppers were Vatout, Romieu, Denniée, Becquet and myself, among men, and Julienne, her lady-companion--a character--the beautiful Amigo, the fair Madame Mira, and sometimes an old lady named Fusil. Mornay called every evening to conduct Mademoiselle Mars to the theatre, or saw her safely home. My readers are acquainted with Romieu; I introduced him in company with his friend Rousseau. So as I have nothing fresh to tell about him, I will pass him over. But I have hardly as yet described Vatout; Madame Valmore took him off well when she dubbed him a "_butterfly in top-boots._" Vatout was full of small defects and great qualities. He would superciliously hold out a finger to you if you offered to shake hands with him, and he put on the airs of a grand seigneur without ever succeeding in being mistaken for a grand seigneur. He had a good heart in spite of his uppish manners; and a charming mind behind his awkward appearance. He had a way of saying certain things that did not sit at all well on him. One of his monstrous affectations was to try and resemble the Duc D'Orléans; I have even been assured that, in confidence, he let people draw conclusions about this resemblance. The Duc d'Orléans was very fond of him and, when king, maintained his friendship with him. At the _Cour Citoyenne_ they quoted his quips and sang his chansons. There was one in particular about the Mayor of Eu, which became the rage. Will our modest readers allow us to insert it here? for, to our way of thinking, it constituted his worthiest claim to the Académie. Do not let us do injustice to poor Vatout. LE MAIRE D'EU AIR_--à faire_ "L'ambition, c'est des bêtises; Ça vous rend triste et soucieux; Mais, dans le vieux manoir des Guises. Qui ne serait ambitieux?... Tourmenté du besoin de faire Quelque chose dans ce beau lieu, J'ai brigué l'honneur d'être maire, Et l'on m'a nommé maire d'Eu! Notre origine n'est pas claire ... Rollon nous gouverna jadis; Mais César fut-il notre père, Où descendons-nous, de Smerdis? Dans l'embarras de ma pensée, Un mot peut tout concilier: Nous sommes issus de Persée; Voyez plutôt mon mobilier!