eriah?" Indicating with his thumb the soldier,
who, standing against a window casement in the rear of the room,
was by his height a conspicuous figure in the gathering.
"I don't exactly know, Ezekiel," replied the landlord, regretfully.
"Not that I didn't try to find out," he added honestly, "but he was so
close, I couldn't get nothing from him. He's from Paris, France; may
be Louis Philippe himself, for all I know."
"No; he ain't Louis Philippe," returned the doctor with decision,
"'cause I seen his likeness in the magazine."
"Might be the dolphin then," suggested the boniface. "He's so mighty
mysterious."
"Dolphin!" retorted the other contemptuously. "There ain't no dolphin.
There hasn't been no dolphin since the French Revolution."
"Oh, I didn't know but there might a been," said the landlord
vaguely.
From mouth to mouth the information, gleaned by the village doctor,
was circulated; speculation had been rife ever since the demise of the
last patroon regarding his successor, and, although the locality was
beyond the furthermost reach of that land-holder, their interest was
none the less keen. The old master of the manor had been like a myth,
much spoken of, never seen without the boundaries of his acres; but
the new lord was a reality, a creditable creation of tailor, hatter,
hosier, cobbler--which trades had not flourished under the old master
who bought his clothes, cap and boots at a country store, owned by
himself. Anticipation of the theatrical performance was thus relieved
in a measure by the presence of the heir, but the delay, incident to a
first night on an improvised stage, was so unusual that the audience
at length began to evince signs of restlessness.
Finally, however, when the landlord's daughter had gazed what seemed
to her an interminable period upon the lady and the swan, the lake and
the greyhound, painted on the curtain, this picture vanished by
degrees, with an exhilarating creaking of the rollers, and was
succeeded by the representation of a room in a cottage. The scenery,
painted in distemper and not susceptible to wind or weather, had
manifold uses, reappearing later in the performance as a nobleman's
palace, supplemented, it is true, by a well-worn carpet to indicate
ducal luxury.
Some trifling changes--concessions to public opinion--were made in the
play, notably in the scene where the duke, with ready hospitality,
offers wine to the rustic Lopez. In Barnes' expurgated, "Was
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