earie! I'm booked!" La Faloise sat on
one of these chairs at the back of the room, between the table and the
stove. He seemed bent on passing the evening there, and yet he was not
quite happy. Indeed, he kept tucking up his long legs in his endeavors
to escape from a whole litter of black kittens who were gamboling wildly
round them while the mother cat sat bolt upright, staring at him with
yellow eyes.

"Ah, it's you, Mademoiselle Simonne! What can I do for you?" asked the
portress.

Simonne begged her to send La Faloise out to her. But Mme Bron was
unable to comply with her wishes all at once. Under the stairs in a sort
of deep cupboard she kept a little bar, whither the supers were wont to
descend for drinks between the acts, and seeing that just at that moment
there were five or six tall lubbers there who, still dressed as Boule
Noire masqueraders, were dying of thirst and in a great hurry, she lost
her head a bit. A gas jet was flaring in the cupboard, within which it
was possible to descry a tin-covered table and some shelves garnished
with half-emptied bottles. Whenever the door of this coalhole was opened
a violent whiff of alcohol mingled with the scent of stale cooking in
the lodge, as well as with the penetrating scent of the flowers upon the
table.

"Well now," continued the portress when she had served the supers, "is
it the little dark chap out there you want?"

"No, no; don't be silly!" said Simonne. "It's the lanky one by the side
of the stove. Your cat's sniffing at his trouser legs!"

And with that she carried La Faloise off into the lobby, while the
other gentlemen once more resigned themselves to their fate and to
semisuffocation and the masqueraders drank on the stairs and indulged in
rough horseplay and guttural drunken jests.

On the stage above Bordenave was wild with the sceneshifters, who seemed
never to have done changing scenes. They appeared to be acting of
set purpose--the prince would certainly have some set piece or other
tumbling on his head.

"Up with it! Up with it!" shouted the foreman.

At length the canvas at the back of the stage was raised into position,
and the stage was clear. Mignon, who had kept his eye on Fauchery,
seized this opportunity in order to start his pummeling matches again.
He hugged him in his long arms and cried:

"Oh, take care! That mast just missed crushing you!"

And he carried him off and shook him before setting him down again. In
view of the s