San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 123

"To be sure--you are Miflores. All right! My dear friend, I shall be obliged to resort to your purse once more. I am going to make my debut at the Quimper-Corentin theatre, in _Joconde_, nothing less! And I must have a costume for the role, a rich and elegant costume; Joconde is Count Robert's friend, you know?"

"No, I don't know that play."

"I will reply in the words of Monsieur Prudhomme, in _La Famille Improvisee_: 'You would be wrong if you could.'--How much do I owe you now?"

"Two thousand francs, which I have lent you at four different times."

"That's right--five hundred francs each time; well, lend me a thousand at once to-day. Then I shall owe you three thousand. But my old aunt can't last much longer; and then, too, I am going to make a great success on the stage, and tenors are paid fabulous prices now! I can easily pay you three thousand francs, when I am earning fifty thousand a year."

Monsieur Seringat took his wallet from his pocket and took from it a thousand-franc note, which he handed to Dodichet, saying:

"This is for keeping my secret!"

"Thanks, my dear friend; you have unpleasant moments, but some very agreeable quarter-hours. Will you come to Quimper to see my debut?"

"No, I don't want to leave Paris; one can lose one's self better here, in the crowd. I have discovered a small hotel, at the rear of a courtyard, at the farther end of Rue Saint-Jacques, and I am going to take refuge there."

"Very good; but as it is essential that I should always be able to find you, if only to repay what I owe you, I think I will accompany you to your small hotel at the rear of a courtyard--for it must be rather hard to find, courtyards ordinarily being behind the hotel. Then I will bid you farewell, and start for Bretagne to gather laurels and yellow-boys."

A cab was waiting at the door; the luggage was placed on top, Dodichet took his place inside, with Seringat, and did not leave him until he had seen him established in an old house on Rue Saint-Jacques, which resembled a hotel about as much as Suresnes wine resembles Chambertin.

Dodichet's first care was to lay in a stock of tobacco, pipes, cigars, and cigarette papers. After that, he turned his attention to his costume for the role of Joconde. He spent three hundred francs, but he had a gorgeous costume, which was almost new. On returning home, he tried it on, and deemed himself so handsome in it that he sent his concierge to tell Boulotte to come to see him as Joconde.

Mademoiselle Boulotte came, and uttered an admiring exclamation at sight of Dodichet in tight, white silk pantaloons, slashed with violet velvet, a tunic of velvet of the same color, a lace ruff, a velvet cap surmounted by a fine white feather, a gilt belt, and yellow turn-over top-boots. She insisted that he should go in that guise and take a gla.s.s of beer with her; but he dared not take the risk of going to a cafe, because it was not Carnival time. The best he could do was to send out for a dinner to the nearest restaurant, and dine with his young friend in his new costume.

Mademoiselle Boulotte was enchanted, and fancied that she was dining with a foreign n.o.bleman. They ate and laughed, and drank freely.

Dodichet sang s.n.a.t.c.hes of his part between the courses; his voice had a fair range, but it had been made hoa.r.s.e by the excessive use of tobacco.

"My dear boy," said Boulotte, "you mustn't smoke on the day of your debut; no, nor on the day before, either."

"Pshaw! pshaw! I'm a little hoa.r.s.e this evening; but if you swallow the yolk of an egg raw, your voice becomes clear again, as if by magic.

Meanwhile, let's drink and smoke! I don't act to-morrow."

They smoked and drank so much that Joconde ended by rolling on the floor in his fine costume, which he found spotted and rumpled and torn the next morning. He was obliged to buy another pair of silk trousers; then he lost no time in taking the train for Bretagne, without trying on his costume again.

Arrived at Quimper-Corentin, Dodichet started off at once to find the manager of the theatre. As he had a large supply of self-a.s.surance and cheek, he a.s.sumed the airs of one of the most talented performers of the age, and the manager was taken in by his manner of the man accustomed to winning triumphs. To make himself thoroughly agreeable to the manager and to his future comrades, Dodichet invited them all to dine at the best hotel in the town. At the table, he announced that they must not spare the claret or the champagne. The local artists were not accustomed to such treatment, and the manager himself, amazed to see a tenor who was apparently wallowing in gold, was persuaded that he had placed his hand on an Elleviou or a Tamberlick.

That same evening, the posters announced the early debut of a young tenor who had already appeared with great success at the leading theatres of Russia, Germany, and Italy. As a measure of precaution, Dodichet did not include France. As his name was not very pleasant to the ear, and seemed better fitted to a comic actor than a real virtuoso, he caused himself to be announced as Signor Rouladini, which name seemed to promise an Italian artist.

"How many rehearsals do you want?" the manager asked his new recruit; who replied, with the a.s.surance which never deserted him:

"One will be enough. I know the piece by heart, and at a pinch I could play all the parts."

But, at the rehearsal, il Signor Rouladini, who claimed to know the play by heart, did not know even his own lines, and repeatedly turned to the prompter.

"I have forgotten it a little, because I knew it too well," he said.

"But to-morrow, before the audience, I shan't miss a word."

"You are still very hoa.r.s.e," said the manager; "would you prefer to have your debut postponed a day or two?"

"No, indeed! for my voice will be just the same later; but on the day of my debut, I will swallow the yolks of two or three eggs raw, and my voice will be clear and sweet. Don't you worry at all!"

The manager did not seem to be altogether rea.s.sured, but all the artists to whom Dodichet had given a dinner declared that he must have a very sweet voice when he was not hoa.r.s.e. The leading lady advised him not to smoke till after his debut. But Dodichet laughed in her face, and offered to bet that he would smoke on the stage while she was singing; the manager formally forbade his debutant to make that experiment, and warned him that the audiences in that town were not very patient.

"That's because you don't know how to take them," was the reply; "I defy them to show a bad temper with me!"

The day of the debut arrived. In the morning there was another rehearsal. Dodichet knew his part no better, and constantly appealed to the prompter, an obstinate old supernumerary, who insisted that the debutant was deaf. The voice was somewhat improved, thanks to the yolks of eggs; but on leaving the rehearsal, Dodichet, in order to tighten up his nerves, drank punch and treated all his comrades except the prompter, with whom he was angry; and therein he made a capital mistake: an actor should take as much pains to stand well with his prompter as a tenant with his concierge.

At dinner, Dodichet thought it best to get slightly tipsy, so that he would not be frightened when he faced the audience. Then he smoked, coughed, spat, and tried his voice: the punch had entirely destroyed the effect of the eggs, and his voice was almost inaudible. He sent out for eggs, and ate several more raw while he was dressing, so that he was horribly sick at his stomach when he went on the stage.

The sight of the crowded theatre greatly disturbed the debutant; he did not know where he was, and spying in a proscenium box a man with whom he had played dominoes the night before, he bowed and took off his cap to him. Luckily, the audience took the salute for itself. The actor who was on the stage with Dodichet motioned to him that it was his turn to speak, but he had not the faintest idea what he was to say; so he turned to the prompter and said in an undertone:

"My cue! my cue!"

"I just gave it to you," retorted the prompter, with the utmost coolness.

The audience began to murmur. The actor who was playing Count Robert came to his comrade's a.s.sistance once more; he skipped part of the scene to the prelude to Joconde's famous air: _J'ai longtemps parcouru le monde_. Thereupon there was profound silence in the hall; for everybody was curious to hear the voice of the individual who acted so wretchedly, and they were beginning to say to one another:

"That's your Italian singer all over! The dialogue is nothing to him, and the music everything."

But on that occasion the music proved to be much worse than the dialogue. The combination of eggs, punch, wine, and tobacco had given the debutant such a peculiar voice that, when he attempted to sing, he emitted a sort of unearthly sound which reminded one of a tea kettle, a duck, and a serpent all at once.

The pit roared with laughter at first. But Dodichet coughed, spat, and tried to smile at the audience, saying:

"This is nothing! it's a cat [hoa.r.s.eness]!"

Then he began again:

"'J'ai longtemps parcouru le monde!'"

"Go and do it again!" cried a voice from the pit.

Dodichet began to cough again, then spat at the prompter, who stuck his head out of his box, and shouted:

"Look out what you're doing!"

Once more the debutant began his air:

"'J'ai longtemps parcouru le monde; Et l'on m'a vu, et l'on m'a vu!----'"[R]

A storm of hisses arose; this time the audience thought that he meant to mock at them, and on all sides there were shouts of:

"Down with him! put him out!"

Dodichet tried to go on:

"'Et l'on m'a vu, et l'on m'a vu!'"

"We've seen quite enough of you!" cried the pit in chorus. "Off you go!"