“Why not? I saw a little lady just now up in a tree--_fichtre!_ messieurs, such a pretty brunette! such a lovely bird!--Come, Monsieur Miaulard, let’s rehearse our fight with swords. One, two, up; three, four, down!” “I say, messieurs, it isn’t certain that we shall give the play, after all,” said Monsieur Mangeot, appearing in his hermit’s costume, with a huge piece of cotton batting pasted to his chin, which imitated a white beard to perfection. “Why, what’s the matter?” “What has happened?” “Has some other actor fallen into the pond?” “I insist upon it’s being emptied at once, so that we shan’t have any more of that.” “No, messieurs, it isn’t that, no one has fallen into the pond; only Kingerie was capable of such a masterpiece as that; but Monsieur Glumeau is complaining, and says that he doesn’t know if he will be able to act.” “Bah! what’s the matter with him now?” “You probably noticed that when he was playing Pincette just now, he was in delightfully high spirits at first, and did nothing but jump and pirouette; he sang all his lines, standing on his toes; he was a regular zephyr. But toward the end, as he attempted to pirouette from one end of the stage to the other, although it isn’t very large, it seems that he caught a stitch in his side; he must have twisted himself, or strained some nerve, or perhaps much less than that; but you know Monsieur Glumeau--he thinks he’s dying on the slightest provocation. Ever since then he has been very anxious, he goes limping about, holding his side; he wants to be rubbed every minute, and he’s afraid of inflammation.” “Well, why don’t they give his part to Chambourdin?” “Chambourdin! We can’t even count on him to play one of the robbers. He is standing almost under the skirts of a lady who is seated on the branch of a tree. Just now I called out to him: ‘Come and put on your robber’s costume!’ and he answered: ‘I am here at madame’s orders, and bayonets won’t make me leave.’” “Sapristi! we must give the play all the same!” cried the druggist, who was most anxious to exhibit himself in tights; “doesn’t monsieur feel able to take the part impromptu?” The druggist addressed this question to little Saint-Arthur. The young dandy, always keenly desirous to produce a sensation, was attracted by the suggestion and exclaimed: “Do I wear a handsome costume?” “You dress as you please.” “Pardieu! in that case, I like the idea, and I accept; but, as I shan’t have time to learn the part, I will act in pantomime.” “An excellent idea,--as good as that of giving _La Dame Blanche_ without music.” “What do you mean, Saint-Arthur, are you really going to act?” asked Jéricourt. “Yes, yes; I have an idea of a costume that will leave Fourriette’s in the shade! I am going to cover myself with leaves.” But at that moment they heard young Miaulard shouting: “Victory! here comes Monsieur Glumeau in his tyrant’s costume, messieurs; that means that he will act.”