Part 48

"And the operetta?" inquired the Empress.

"I hope your Majesties will be indulgent," I replied.

Monsieur de Laferrière was next to me at dinner. He was as much interested in the operetta as other people seemed to be. I took advantage of his being my neighbor to ask him to manage it so that we could leave the salon before the cercle commenced, as we had to dress, and if any of us were late I dared not think what the effect would be on the nervous Marquis.

The Emperor raised his glass during dinner, though I sat very far down the table. I suppose he wanted to inspire me with hope and courage.

Monsieur de Laferrière arranged everything for us most amiably. We rushed off to our rooms to dress. I, for one, was not long over my toilette, and, followed by my maid, hurried through the long corridors to the theater.

We were all there except Monsieur de V----, who was no doubt still pottering over his raiment. The artist he had ordered from Paris was already there, brush in hand, ready to paint us. The result was very satisfactory. When we looked at ourselves in the glass we wondered why one should not be beautiful every day with so simple an art.

We were rather taken back when Monsieur d'Espeuilles appeared in a wig and a false mustache; but he hastened to say there was nothing like being disguised to put one at one's ease. The gentlemen of the chorus, not willing to go to any extra expense, had culottes courtes and white stockings; the ladies had tried to be more in harmony, but they thought that with rakes, spades, and basket they had quite enough couleur locale.

The chamberlain came to ask whether their Majesties should come now. Prince Metternich answered that we were waiting for them, A tedious delay occurred before the audience had settled into their places in accordance with their rank, to the great annoyance of Prince Metternich, shut up in the small prompter's box, and the Marquis d'Aoust, fidgeting at the piano, and driving us almost to distraction by his repeated questions and exhortations: "Do you think you know your part? Don't forget to"--etc.

At last! at last! No retreating now, Coûte que coûte! we must take in the plank and embark on our shaky craft.

The Marquis attacked the overture by playing some vigorous arpeggios and pompous chords. The curtains were drawn aside and the lord of the manor entered. After his monologue, which he did very well, he hesitated a moment. This agitated the Marquis to such a degree that he stood up and waved his hand as a signal to him to commence his song, and gave him the note on the piano. Monsieur de V---- started in all right and sang his song with due sentiment, and very well. I even think as far back as the sixth row of seats they were conscious that he was singing. His acting and gestures were faultless. All Frenchmen can act.

I thought, when I came in, the public was chilly, and I felt cold shivers running down my back. My courage was oozing out of me, and when the lord of the manor said to me, "Rosette, que fais-tu ici?" and I had to answer, "Ce que je fais, Monsieur; mais vous voyez bien, je ne fais rien," I thought I should die of fright and collapse on the spot. However, I pulled myself together and began my silly little song.

The moment I began to sing I felt at ease, and I flatter myself I gave a certain glaze to the emptiness of the music. Madame Conneau sang her dramatic aria beautifully, and created quite a furore. I only wish the music had been more worthy of her. The love duet between the friend and myself was, much to my surprise, a great success. It was encored, and we sang it again.

When we came to the minor passage (the stumbling-block) the Marquis, who was perspiring at every pore in his dread that I should not hit the right note, pounded it on the piano loud enough to be heard all over the theater. I gave him a withering look, which he pretended not to see. Perhaps he did not, for his attention, like mine, was startled by seeing the false mustache of Monsieur d'Espeuilles ungluing and threatening to drop into his mouth. The Marquis began wagging his head and making frantic signs. Monsieur d'Espeuilles was horribly confused, and I feared for the success of our da capo; but he patted the now limp offender back on his lip, and we continued the duet. During the applause the Marquis took the occasion to wipe the perspiration from his bald head.

In spite of our qualms the final quartette was not so bad after all. When it was time for me to come down from my upward flight in order to help the tenor, the Marquis again waved his right hand in the air to attract my attention, while he thundered a tremolo with his left, to keep the accompaniment going until he was sure that everything was right. The chorus came on in due order, and flourished their rakes and spades as though they were waving flags, in participation of the joy and gladness of the reconciliation. There was one moment of genuine hilarity, when the little fox-terrier belonging to the Empress's niece rushed on to the stage to join his mistress, who, with great sang-froid, picked him up and went on singing, to the immense amusement of the audience.

It was suffocatingly hot in the little theater, and we were glad to think that we had arrived at the end of our perilous journey. The red on our cheeks was getting paler; the powder was becoming paste; the black on the eyebrowless actors began to run down their cheeks; Monsieur d'Espeuilles's wig and mustache were all on one side.

All these details mattered little, now that the end had come, and the performance had concluded with great éclat.

The happy Marquis (though I think he aged ten years that hour at the piano) was radiant with his success. Every emotion had swept over him: ambition, vanity, hope, pride, forbearance, patience, long-suffering.

The curtain fell amid great applause, as spontaneous as it was persistent and, I hope, genuine.

We stayed in our costumes for the tea in the Emperor's salon.

Both their Majesties complimented the Marquis, and thanked us all separately for the pleasure they had had and the trouble we had given ourselves. The Emperor said to me, "Vous vous êtes surpassée ce soir." I courtesied and asked him what he thought of the music.

He hesitated before answering. "I don't know much about music; but it seems to me, as Rossini said of the music of Wagner: 'Il y a de jolis moments, mais de mauvais quarts d'heures!' All the same, it was very pretty."

Every one praised the Marquis to the skies, and he was really in the seventh heaven of delight.

I am only afraid his head will be turned, and that he will write another chef-d'oeuvre.

I was glad when their Majesties bade us good night, for I was completely exhausted.

PARIS, December 5th.

It seems nice, all the same, to be at home again. We arrived in Paris at six o'clock, and at half-past seven I was in my bed, completely worn out. However, I must tell you how our visit ended the day before yesterday. Was it only the day before yesterday? It seems months ago. At déjeuner the Princess Metternich sat on the right of the Emperor, and the Empress's brother-in-law, Duke d'Albe, gave me his avant-le-déluge arm, and put me on the left of his Majesty.

I thought the Emperor looked tired and ill, and I noticed he frequently put his hand on his back, as if he was in pain. The Princess Metternich engrossed the Emperor's attention. She is so witty and lively that every one must listen when she talks. All the same, the Emperor talked with me a good deal, and thanked me for having done so much to amuse them. Never would they forget the pleasure they had had.

When we went up to our rooms to put on our cloaks there was no pretentious majordomo demanding his fee, and our particular valet looked sad, and did not meet my eye when I tried to catch his to give a smile of adieu, and persistently fixed his gaze on something at the other end of the corridor. I rather liked the old way better, as one felt that in a measure one had made some little compensation for all the delightful days spent there.