ir les morceaux suivants.

"Mademoiselle Ferrario chantera--Mignon--Oiseaux
legers--France--Des Francais dorment la--Le chateau bleu--Ou
voulez-vous aller?

"M. de Vauversin--Madame Fountaine et M. Robinet--Les plongeurs a
cheval--Le mari mecontent--Tais-toi, gamin--Mon voisin
l'original--Heureux comme ca--Comme on est trompe."_

They made a stage at one end of the _salle-a-manger_. And what a sight
it was to see M. de Vauversin, with a cigarette in his mouth, twanging a
guitar, and following Mademoiselle Ferrario's eyes with the obedient,
kindly look of a dog! The entertainment wound up with a tombola, or
auction of lottery tickets: an admirable amusement, with all the
excitement of gambling, and no hope of gain to make you ashamed of your
eagerness; for there all is loss; you make haste to be out of pocket; it
is a competition who shall lose most money for the benefit of M. de
Vauversin and Mademoiselle Ferrario.

M. de Vauversin is a small man, with a great head of black hair, a
vivacious and engaging air, and a smile that would be delightful if he
had better teeth. He was once an actor in the Chatelet; but he
contracted a nervous affection from the heat and glare of the
footlights, which unfitted him for the stage. At this crisis
Mademoiselle Ferrario, otherwise Mademoiselle Rita of the Alcazar,
agreed to share his wandering fortunes. "I could never forget the
generosity of that lady," said he. He wears trousers so tight that it
has long been a problem to all who knew him how he manages to get in and
out of them. He sketches a little in water-colours; he writes verses; he
is the most patient of fishermen, and spent long days at the bottom of
the inn-garden fruitlessly dabbling a line in the clear river.

You should hear him recounting his experiences over a bottle of wine;
such a pleasant vein of talk as he has, with a ready smile at his own
mishaps, and every now and then a sudden gravity, like a man who should
hear the surf roar while he was telling the perils of the deep. For it
was no longer ago than last night, perhaps, that the receipts only
amounted to a franc and a half, to cover three francs of railway fare
and two of board and lodging. The Maire, a man worth a million of money,
sat in the front seat, repeatedly applauding Mlle. Ferrario, and yet
gave no more than three _sous_ the whole evening. Local authorities look
with such an evil eye upon the strolling artist. Alas!