The company followed Madame Glumeau to the enclosure facing the stage. All the seats were very soon occupied, but most of the men took their places behind, and leaned against the trees. The creaking of the trellis work which enclosed the auditorium indicated that there was also an audience outside, which proposed to enjoy the spectacle although uninvited. The male actors dressed in the billiard room, the ladies in the house. As they were about to begin, they discovered that various indispensable accessories were lacking; thereupon there was much running from the theatre to the house, and from the house to the theatre; one saw nothing but people hurrying back and forth, shouting: “The basket! we must have a basket!” “And the letter for Monsieur Astianax!” “And a table! we must have a table, and a cloth on it!” “We want a stove,--where’s the stove?” “There isn’t one; take an empty cask, that will represent a stove well enough!” “We must have a pie! there’s a supper in the play.” “Take an empty flower pot, that will do very well for the pie.” “We want a bottle of champagne.” “There’s a bottle of Seltzer behind the first wing; that will pop like champagne.” All these incidents delayed the rising of the curtain; but the audience did not grumble, they laughed and found amusement in all that they saw. At last an amateur musician armed with a violin, and another carrying a clarinet in his arms like a baby, took their seats in front of the stage. As for the prompter, there being no hole under the stage for him, he stood behind the drop curtain. “This theatre in the midst of a forest is really very pretty!” said Madame de Grangeville, who was seated beside Madame Glumeau. “Oh! you will see how pretty it is, madame la baronne, when the curtain rises; we have some lovely scenery: a Pompadour salon, painted by Monsieur Devoir; it is perfectly lovely.” “What plays are they going to give us?” “They begin with _Œil et Nez_, a little farce acted by Madame Dufournelle, my son and Monsieur Mangeot.--But it is very strange,--look about as I will, I don’t see Madame Boutillon; and yet I am very sure that she came with her husband.” “Who is Madame Boutillon?” “She is a young lady who lives here in summer, as we do; she had on a very original, very pretty dress.” “If she has on a pretty dress, it isn’t possible that she has hidden herself; she must be somewhere here.” “But no, I can’t see her.” “Hush! they are beginning.” The three knocks were given. The amateur with the violin started off and played the overture to Fra Diavolo; the clarinet started a few measures later, and played the overture to Jeune Henri; the two men played thus for some time, seeing who could go the faster, persuaded that they would finally overtake each other and play together. The audience opened their ears in amazement, but the wiser ones stuffed theirs.