“Oh! oh!” cried the dandified Saint-Arthur, trying to stuff the head of his cane into his nose, “the idea of a flower girl being a model of virtue! That would be the eighth wonder of the world.--But where is your theatre, monsieur?” “You will see it in a moment.--But I see my mother and sister; I will introduce you, messieurs.” “That long bean-pole is his sister,” whispered Saint-Arthur in Jéricourt’s ear. “Yes, my dear fellow, and I don’t advise you to give her your arm, you would look like her doll!” “Never fear, I haven’t any desire to do it. What a pity that Zizi isn’t with us! I see that there will be plenty to laugh at here. How she would enjoy it! I fancy that we shall find their comedy decidedly ridiculous! But what are they going to do with all the chairs they are taking out of the garden? Are they moving?” “Those are the seats being taken to the theatre,” said Madame Glumeau, graciously saluting the two gentlemen, who, although they had just arrived, were already busily engaged in making sport of whatever they saw; “seats for the spectators, I mean. It would be very kind of you, messieurs, to help a little, to take a few chairs into the wood.” “What an astonishing woman!” murmured the dandified Saint-Arthur, turning to Jéricourt; “as if we came here to carry chairs!” “Come, come, Alfred, be decent, or I won’t take you into the country again. Look about; there are some very pretty women here, and I sacrifice myself,--I am going to carry some chairs.” The garden began to fill with guests, some from Paris, others who lived in the neighborhood. The darkness was coming on, and the semi-obscurity added to the charm of the occasion. Some ladies, by chance or by design, had wandered away from their husbands, whom they were careful not to find again; but gallant cavaliers zealously offered their arms, to assist them in their search. Chambourdin did not fail to take advantage of the opportunity to approach Madame Boutillon; the pretty little brunette had lost no time in losing her husband very soon after her arrival, and the bald young man hastened to offer her his arm, saying: “You are looking for monsieur your husband? accept my arm, madame, and I’ll guide you; I know the house.” “Oh! I am not looking for my husband at all, monsieur,” replied the little lady, laughing; “I am not afraid that he will get lost.” “Ah! that makes a difference; pray come into the woods, madame; I will take you to the theatre and find you a seat.” “With pleasure, monsieur.” At that moment, Madame Glumeau walked toward the gate with a large number of ladies, exclaiming: “Come to the woods, messieurs, everybody to the theatre; we must take seats, for it will begin very soon.”