Part 67 (1/2)
”Ah! charming! delightful! isn't it, wife? What did I tell you? _Fourb.u.m imperator_!--Stop your noise, children!”
”I had other parts that I preferred. First of all, Figaro. Ah! Figaro!
the costume is so pretty, and it was so becoming to me!”
”Yes, the costume must have been very becoming to you. Monsieur Mouille, didn't you disguise yourself as Figaro once, to go to a magnificent ball given by a contractor?”
”No, monsieur, I went as Pincon, in _Je fais mes Farces_.”
”Oh! that is different.”
”To return to my costume,” said Monsieur Roquencourt, ”it was white and cherry, and made of silk throughout. I believe I have it yet.”
”White and cherry; and you have it yet! Ah! if you would put it on, how kind it would be of you!”
Caroline, who had not uttered a word during this whole conversation, now leaned over to me and whispered:
”Have these people come here with the purpose of making fun of my uncle?”
”No, there is another motive, which I will tell you.”
Monsieur Roquencourt looked at Giraud a moment, but replied good-naturedly:
”Oh, no! I can't wear that costume again. It was twenty-five years ago when I wore it, and since that time I have taken on flesh, a great deal of fles.h.!.+”
”Yes, it is true, in twenty-five years one does change, one does grow fat.--Monsieur Mouille, it seems to me that you have grown since last year.”
”Three lines,” replied Monsieur Mouille with a bow.
”Three lines! the deuce! You will make a fine man! Mademoiselle has a fine figure too, one of those graceful and slender figures which make it impossible for a small man to offer her his arm.”
It was Caroline to whom this complimentary speech was addressed. She glanced at me with an impatient gesture, but Giraud, who thought that he had done the most graceful thing in the world in praising fine figures, had not thought of Monsieur Roquencourt, who was very short. The uncle stepped forward into the centre of the circle and said:
”Monsieur, you are greatly mistaken when you say that a man of medium height should not offer his arm to a tall woman; Mademoiselle Contat was by no means short, and she certainly found me a most satisfactory escort.”
”Oh, Monsieur Roquencourt! Why, that is not what I said, or what I meant to say! The devil! let us understand each other. Little man! deuce take it! why, everybody knows that the heroes, the Alexanders, the Fredericks, the Napoleons, were all men of short stature. Isn't that so, Monsieur Mouille?--Wife, for heaven's sake, make your daughter stop her noise.”
”And on the stage, monsieur, it is much better to be short than tall, for the stage makes everyone appear taller.”
”That is what I have said twenty times to my wife,--the stage makes people taller; and you know something about it, Monsieur Roquencourt.”
”Yes, indeed I do. A tall man cannot play Figaro, or Mascarille, or Scapin.--Ah! how quick and active I was as Scapin! I had my portrait painted in the character.”
”Your portrait as Scapin! Was it exhibited in the Salon?”
”They wanted to paint me as Monsieur de Crac too.”
”Monsieur de Crac! My wife is still laughing because I repeated some scenes to her, after you. Ah! Monsieur Roquencourt! if you would only be good enough--Monsieur Mouille has never seen Monsieur de Crac,--Have you, Monsieur Mouille?”
”I beg your pardon,” replied the young man, ”I think that I have seen it acted at Bobino's.”
”Ha! ha! at Bobino's, eh?” cried Monsieur Roquencourt. ”Pardieu! that must have been fine! A difficult role like that! In the first place, you must be careful about the accent:[2]