_Fanchon_ was acted indifferently well; many of the actors, not knowing their parts, had skipped several scenes; Raymond had done the same with his lines; so that the play was soon done. Neither Madame de Marsan's absence nor mine was noticed; the actors supposed that we were in the audience, the spectators, that we were behind the scenes. The vaudeville being finished, Raymond arranged his little scene in honor of the lady who had played Fanchon, and whose birthday it was. Everyone sang his or her couplet, and Raymond called for Madame de Marsan and myself to sing ours. As he did not find us, and as the dénouement was at hand, he ran into the wings and seized the cord to which was attached the surprise that was to descend upon Fanchon's head. He pulled it slightly, and the weight that he felt above set his mind at rest, convincing him that the gardener had not forgotten to attach the wreath. The moment had come; the orchestra played "What grace, what majesty!" That was the signal for the wreath to descend. Raymond let the cord go; a sudden murmur ran through the hall, then bursts of laughter arose on all sides. "Stop! stop!" someone called from the stage. Raymond put his head out from the wings to witness the tableau, and saw that, instead of a wreath of flowers, he had lowered a syringe on Fanchon's head. The confusion was at its height; the hall rang with laughter, while on the stage wrath at Raymond's blundering folly was still predominant. The young lady who had played Fanchon was obliged to push the syringe away from her head. Raymond dropped the cord and ran out on the stage, crying: "It wasn't my fault; it's Pourceaugnac's syringe--and that idiot of a gardener forgot to take it off! It should have been a wreath. But we'll make up for this.--Forward, Cupids!" He gave the signal, the orchestra played Zéphire's air from _Psyche_, and everybody waited impatiently for what was coming. Again Raymond clapped his hands. "Come on, Cupids!" he cried; "come out, I say!" But nothing came out of the prompter's box. The audience, tired of waiting to no purpose, prepared to leave the hall, and the actors to vacate the stage. In vain did Raymond try to detain them, crying: "They're coming! they'll appear in a minute! they must be putting on the bands!" Nobody listened to him. In his rage he determined to find his Cupids, at all events; he jumped down into the prompter's box, looked under the stage and in every corner of the building, but he did not succeed in finding them. The two little fellows were dressed and ready two hours before it was time for them to appear. The gardener, bewildered by all the orders he had received, had entirely forgotten the wreath; but he had made some bouquets, which he gave to the children, then led them to the prompter's box and said: "Stay here; you're to go on the stage when you're called."