Volume 14 / Part 2 — XIX THÉÂTRE DE GUIGNOL.—A SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY.

There was quite a large gathering in front of the little canvas structure. The ladies were seated on chairs and most of the men stood behind them.

Mademoiselle Héloïse was one of the audience; when she caught sight of Croque, whom she recognized at once, she nudged Thélénie and whispered:

“Why, that man is the one——”

“He’s a German baron; don’t forget that!” was the beautiful brunette’s reply; and the words were accompanied by such a meaning glance that Héloïse instantly understood that she was not to recognize the gentleman.

The scene between Polichinelle and the devil had just begun; the theme was about the same as usual; the men who work the marionettes follow too closely in the beaten track.

The devil tries to tempt Polichinelle, who thrashes the devil. The company considered that the devil was entirely too good a fellow and submitted to his thrashing altogether too readily.

“This Guignol isn’t very good, is he?” said Freluchon to his neighbor, Croque.

“No, he don’t say enough funny things, ten thousand kirschwassers! if I was inside there, I’d give you something a little better seasoned!”

“Well, baron, why don’t you go under the canvas and play a few scenes for us; I am sure that you would be much more amusing.”

“Oh, no! I wouldn’t dare; I might let out something altogether too free. I don’t know French well enough.”

“Pardieu! here’s a gentleman whom you will be glad to meet; he will talk German with you. Monsieur Courty, you speak German readily, do you not?”

“Ja! ja!” replied the young salesman, “as readily as French.”

“Very good; pray talk a little with the Baron von Schtapelmerg; he will be overjoyed to have an opportunity to converse in his native tongue.”

Far from being overjoyed at the prospect of speaking German, Croque made a wry face, twisted his moustache and tried to go away; but Monsieur Courty was already by his side and was addressing him in German.

“Gut! gut! tarteiff! certainly I agree with you,” muttered the pretended baron, shaking his head.

The young man stared at him in amazement and repeated his remark. Croque, seeing that he had made an inconsequent reply, exclaimed:

“What devilish jargon is this you’re talking? I don’t understand a word of it!”

“Why, it’s the purest German, monsieur—the most ordinary words.”

“I beg pardon! I’m from Bavaria and I only speak Bavarian.”

“I have stayed a long while in Bavaria, monsieur, and the people there speak exactly as I just spoke to you.”

“Then, monsieur, the language must have changed since I have been in France.”

“This fellow is no more a Bavarian than you are,” said Monsieur Courty to Freluchon; “and, more than that, he doesn’t know a single word of German.”

“I suspected as much! that’s why I asked you to speak to him in that language.”

At that moment the company began to laugh and applaud, because a young man from among the guests had taken charge of the marionettes. The idea was heartily welcomed; everyone was anxious to pass judgment on the talent of the gentlemen present, and each one in turn was requested to manipulate Guignol’s characters.

When Freluchon’s turn came, he passed under the canvas, and began by exhibiting Polichinelle.

POLICHINELLE.—Sapristi! I am the happiest of men; I have made my fortune! I have inherited wealth! I have my pile! When I hadn’t a sou, I was as stupid as a goose, and no one looked at me. I could not make a conquest! No one would give me credit! I had holes in my breeches, the girls all thought me hideous, and my doctor always said to me: “You’re not sick; go to the devil!”

To-day, what a difference! I am witty; I can’t open my mouth without being applauded; people often laugh at my jokes even before I’ve made them. All the women ogle me; they think me as handsome as Apollo; if I tear a hole in my breeches, all the girls offer to patch it, and my doctor pays me two or three visits a day, assuring me every time that there’s something wrong with my insides.

But that is not all! I am married! I have married a magnificent woman, and all my friends are overjoyed, because they already knew my wife intimately, the result being that they’re perfectly at home in our house; it’s filled with them all the time. To be sure, there are some of them who look like pickpockets, knaves, swindlers, skinflints. But if one never entertained any but honest folk, one would see so little company!——

But here is monsieur le commissaire, I think; what has he come here for?

THE MAGISTRATE.—Have I the honor of speaking to Monsieur Polichinelle?

POLICHINELLE.—No, monsieur le commissaire, my name is no longer Polichinelle; that name was good enough when I had no money, when I was a poor pedestrian, a nobody, in fact. But now that I have a carriage, I call myself Monsieur de la Carrossière. That’s a name worthy to ride in a fine turn-out.

THE MAGISTRATE.—I beg pardon, Monsieur Polichinelle——

POLICHINELLE.—De la Carrossière, I told you.

THE MAGISTRATE.—You can’t change your name as you do your trousers. First of all, you must have the right to.

POLICHINELLE—aside.—Where in the devil do they raise magistrates of this sort! Ah! I know; I must grease his paw.—Aloud.—Monsieur le commissaire, if I should offer you this gold five-franc piece to call me De la Carrossière——

THE MAGISTRATE.—What’s this! You try to corrupt an officer of the law! You are a rascal! a scoundrel! an impertinent fellow!

POLICHINELLE.—I won’t do it again, monsieur le commissaire.

THE MAGISTRATE.—Your wife and a ci and a ça!

POLICHINELLE.—A scie[D]; that may be, monsieur le commissaire; but as to a ça—I don’t believe a word of it.

THE MAGISTRATE.—I have come to warn you concerning her disorderly life.

POLICHINELLE.—You needn’t have put yourself out for that, monsieur le commissaire.

THE MAGISTRATE.—Every night she comes home with two lovers.

POLICHINELLE.—Impossible, monsieur le commissaire! I always wait for her in the concierge’s lodge; she comes home alone.

THE MAGISTRATE.—She conceals her lovers under her hoop-skirt, monsieur.

POLICHINELLE.—Oh! mon Dieu! what do you tell me, monsieur le commissaire! and she talks of wearing a steel skirt now in addition! Does the woman propose to smuggle a whole regiment into my house?

Thélénie, not finding the scene to her taste, rose hurriedly, saying:

“It seems to me, mesdames, that we have had enough of the marionettes; there are other amusements awaiting us in the garden, and it will not be long before dinner.”

Everybody followed the hostess with alacrity. The Théâtre de Guignol was deserted, and Monsieur Courty said to Freluchon when he put his head out over the canvas:

“There’s no one here, my dear fellow; you have emptied the house—fait four.”

“On the contrary, I have fired my shot—fait feu.”

The wooden horses, the Egyptian bird, the swings, the little Russian mountains and other diversions engaged the attention of the company until dinner was announced.

The table was laid in an enormous tent which had been pitched for that purpose in the garden, and which was large enough to contain all the guests.

Croque had sedulously avoided Freluchon since the latter had introduced him to the man who spoke German. But when they repaired to the table, the little man succeeded in obtaining a seat next the soi-disant baron. The latter made a slight grimace when he saw who his neighbor was; but Freluchon at once said to him:

“I fixed it so as to sit by you at table; that was rather agreeable on my part, eh, baron?”

“It was exceedingly amiable of you!”

“I know that you’re a jolly buck; we’ll drink hard and straight.”

“I’ve promised not to drink to-day.”

“What’s that? what did you do that for? Suppose you should get a little tight! in the country one can let himself go.”

“At supper, I don’t say no, we will see; but I propose to keep my senses now.”

“Do you think there’ll be a supper?”

“I am sure of it.”

“Do you know that this is a magnificent affair—this fête of Monsieur and Madame de Belleville’s?”

“Yes, it will cost them a pile.”

“What did you say?”

“I say that this is famous madeira, ten thousand bouffardes!”

“As I am not afraid of getting a little started, I am going to fill up again.”

“Cristi! damn the odds! I’ll take another glass, too.”

“It’s no use for you to try to hold back, my buck,” thought Freluchon, as he refilled Croque’s glass; “I mean for you to be as agreeable to-night as you were last night.”

Seizing an opportunity when the conversation flagged a little, Doctor Antoine took the floor.

“This charming banquet,” he began, “which recalls the famous feasts of Lucullus, so often cited for their sumptuousness, this superb banquet, I say, is to be made still more memorable by the announcement of a scientific discovery—a most interesting discovery—which our host has made, and which he has promised to communicate to us.”

“Hear! hear!” cried Freluchon, “we call for the discovery; it concerns the age of trees, I understand.”

“Is it really the age of trees?” inquired Madame Droguet with an anxious glance at the doctor.

“Why, yes, my dear lady; pray be calm! there has never been a question of anything else.”

Everybody united in begging Chamoureau to keep his promise by making known his discovery. Even Thélénie said to him:

“Come, speak up, monsieur; you see that everybody is waiting for you.”

Chamoureau felt it incumbent upon him to rise, so that he might be heard more distinctly; and having bowed to right and left, as if he were going to propose a toast, he began:

“Long ago I noticed——”

“I say! I know that song,” muttered Freluchon, as Chamoureau paused to cough; “is that his discovery?”

Having succeeded in clearing his throat, Chamoureau continued:

“Long ago I noticed that a person, as he looked at a tree, would say: ‘I wonder how old it is!’ Then he would proceed to make figures according to its girth and the wrinkles of its bark, and make an approximate estimate; but no one was ever certain. It occurred to me that it would be no less useful than agreeable to be able to tell the age of a tree instantly, simply by looking at it.”

“It would be admirable!” said the doctor.

“Very interesting,” said Monsieur Remplumé.

“Very valuable for dealers in wood,” said Monsieur Jarnouillard.

“At last, messieurs, after long consideration and profound study, I have found a method to put an end to all uncertainty in that respect.”

“Ah! let us hear the method.”

“Hush, messieurs! silence! let us listen.”

“Let us not lose a word.”

“Messieurs, this is what must be done: whenever anyone plants a tree, he must have ready a small piece of wood or zinc—perhaps zinc would be preferable—and on this sheet of zinc, which is to be nailed to the tree, will be carved the year, month and day of the planting; then it seems to me, it will be very easy to tell the age of a tree at a glance.”

Applause, intermingled with much stifled laughter, arose on all sides.

“Bravo! bravo!”

“Honor to Monsieur de Belleville!”

“This discovery does him great credit!”

“It’s as simple as good-day; and no one ever thought of it!”

“Here’s to Monsieur de Belleville’s scientific discovery!”

Freluchon rose and said:

“I propose to add hereafter to the name of Monsieur de Belleville that of Silvestre, derived from Sylvestris, which means woods, trees, forests. Let us drink then to the health of Monsieur de Belleville-Silvestre! the grateful stumps!”

“What do you mean by stumps?”

“I mean, in the name of the grateful stumps.”

Chamoureau was radiant; he had no suspicion that he was being laughed at, and received in all seriousness the compliments that were paid him.

But Thélénie, who was less entertained by this comedy, soon said to him:

“I believe, monsieur, that you informed me that you had something else in store—something that would be agreeable to me. I trust that it has nothing to do with trees?”

“No, my dear love, it relates to a matter in which you alone are interested. You gave me two commissions a few days ago: first, to find out whom a dog belonged to that had had the effrontery to bark at you. I have at last discovered his owner; that savage beast, which, by the way, is unlawfully at large, as he isn’t muzzled, belongs to a man who lives on an estate called the Tower, near Gournay. This man, who is looked upon as——”

“Enough, monsieur; you tell me nothing new; I know perfectly well who owns that dog.”

“Nevertheless, I propose to go and tell him he must muzzle his Newfoundland—they say it’s a Newfoundland—and to-morrow——”

“No, monsieur, it is quite unnecessary for you to take that step. I have already seen that gentleman, and he has apologized to me.”

“Oh! if he has apologized to you, that makes a difference.”

“What! my dear madame, have you seen the bear of the Tower?” Madame Droguet asked Thélénie.

“Yes, I met him and spoke to him.”

“It seems that the man is becoming less uncivilized; probably since he has been in love with that Dalmont woman.”

“What do you say?”

“I say that this Monsieur Paul passes every evening now with that creature; everybody knows it, it is getting to be a public scandal. Isn’t that so, Monsieur Luminot?”

Luminot, who was sitting between the two ladies and was the only person who had heard this little aside, was busily stuffing himself with truffles, and contented himself with mumbling:

“It’s perfectly scandalous.—They’re from Périgord! what a perfume!”

“Hush! hush!” said Thélénie; “we will return to this subject this evening. My husband has something else to tell me.”

Chamoureau was in fact waiting until his wife should be ready to listen to him.

“Now, my dear love, as the dog is out of the way, we will go on to the case of the small boy.—You must know, ladies and gentlemen, that there is a small boy, a little vagabond, a very bad boy, so it seems, who had the audacity to throw stones at my wife.”

“I’ll bet that it was the lost child!” said Doctor Antoine.

“Just so, doctor; it was the lost child. But I did not know it; madame had instructed me to find out whom the little rascal belonged to—he is about eight years old—in order to warn his parents to look after him a little better. I succeeded at last in finding out whom the rascal belonged to—that is to say, whom he lives with,—for nobody knows whom he belongs to, and that is why he is called the lost child.—It’s rather an interesting story; the nurse told me everything—for I have seen the nurse. I will tell it to you; it would be a good subject for a melodrama.”

As this promised to be more interesting than the age of trees, everybody listened attentively to Chamoureau; even Thélénie herself was secretly impatient to hear what he had to say.