I.
Fournichon, the hair-dresser, discovered in his shop, busy finishing a lady’s chignon.
Fournichon. There ought to be a machine invented to make our work easier, ... say, some simple arrangement in which you throw in a handful of hair on one side and take out a perruque perfectionnée on the other. I shall certainly bring up my son as a mechanician, and entrust him with the invention of this indispensable machine. Let me see, whose turn is it now? Ah! Mevrouw Priddeau,—a chignon à la sauvage, of at least three kilos? ... Mille tonnerres! I am quite out of black hair! Hi! Pierre!
[He sends his assistants to purchase the necessary supplies; almost immediately after his shop is hastily entered by two students, Charles and John, who drop into chairs, as though completely exhausted.]
Fournichon (rising). How can I serve you, gentlemen?
Charles (gasping). A glass of water, if you please.
[Fournichon supplies them both, and goes on.] How you startled me, gentlemen! to rush in breathlessly like that! Yet it’s not the season for mad dogs!
Charles. If it had only been a mad dog!
Fournichon. Surely no tiger has broken loose from the Zoological Gardens?
John. If it had only been a tiger!
Fournichon. Come, come, I shall not make myself uneasy. You have been up to some mischief, haven’t you? You were pursued by the police, and you saw no other refuge but the hospitable establishment of M. Fournichon, Coiffeur des Deux Sexes. Now, am I not right?
FOURNICHON, THE HAIR-DRESSER.
Charles. Yes, that’s it,—the contemptible wretch ... the scoundrel! ... The same low cad who got me in for three weeks’ solitary last year. Far worse than the maddest dog, or the most savage tiger!
John. The fellow never will learn to understand that a couple of rix-dollars are worth far more than his so-called official honour, which involves him in the constant risk of incurring a thrashing.
Fournichon. But what has happened, after all? Surely, gentlemen, you did not come running here in such haste to tell me that you got into quod last year?
Charles. What has happened? Nothing, strictly speaking ... but a whole lot may happen.
John. And that must be prevented,—and that is why we have come to seek comfort, counsel, and help from the hospitable Fournichon.
Charles. I’ll tell you all about it. We were just coming quietly and comfortably from lecture together, when we passed a baker’s shop, when the servant girl was just washing the windows. John took it into his head that we might lend a hand, and I seized a pail of water, intending to throw the contents at the window, when the pail itself slipped from my hands, and flew right through the plate-glass window into the middle of the currant-buns and cakes! Unhappily, the aforesaid incorruptible policeman just happened to be in the neighbourhood, so that he caught us red-handed, and we had to make good use of our legs to escape being locked up at once.
John. You will understand that we did not intend any mischief,—it was a harmless joke, which turned out badly.
Fournichon. Of course. And not only so, but there was provocation on the baker’s part. If he had chosen another time of day to have his windows cleaned, it could not possibly have turned out so. In any case, there are plenty of extenuating circumstances, and I don’t understand why you gentlemen should have such a violent objection to a day or two under lock and key. That happens often enough, and young gentlemen don’t usually think so much of it.
John. That is true, but to-day is an extraordinary occasion. We were going to the fancy-dress ball to-night, and should be very sorry to miss it. So you see us in a fearful scrape, with a gendarme at our heels, and you must help us. [A ring at the bell.] What’s that?
Fournichon. I don’t know; we shall see in a minute. [Steps are heard coming up the stairs.]
Charles. John, get out of sight. [They hide.]
Pierre (entering). Sir, Vrouw Krullemie has just sold her hair this morning for seventy-five cents.
[The students come out again.]
John. Bother your Krullemie! Say, Fournichon, if your visitors are in the habit of dropping in unannounced after this fashion, we are not altogether safe here.
Fournichon. Well, look here, gentlemen, you suggested an idea yourselves. Your costumes for the ball must be quite ready by this time; why don’t you disguise yourselves in them?
Charles. A fine lark! In the first place they are not here....
John. That would matter less, for we might send for them, but we could scarcely show ourselves in the streets in them.
Fournichon. How so?
John. Well, I was going to appear as the Avenger of Innocence.
Charles. And I as the Four Seasons.
Fournichon. You are right, that would never do; but I have another proposal to make. I too intend going to the ball, and have had costumes made for myself and one of my friends, which will no doubt suit you better. You can have those, and give us yours.
John. All right, if they are better suited to the purpose than ours.
Fournichon. Oh! just perfect! You shall see. [Opens two chests in the foreground, and takes out costumes. These should be so made as to be put on, on the stage, without much trouble.] We were going as an old lady and her granddaughter. The dresses are very simple, and I think they will do admirably.
“I AM QUITE LOST IN THIS CAP.”
Charles. Done! I accept that. Now, quick! before any one has time to surprise us.
John. Say, Charles, will you be the grandmother?
Charles. All right, and you the girl.
Fournichon. Don’t make any mistakes; the crinoline belongs to this skirt.
Charles. I am quite lost in this cap.
Fournichon. You must have a wig on first.
John. Just look here, Fournichon, this dress isn’t long enough.
Fournichon. Why, of course, you’re only in short skirts as yet.
John. Ah! is that it?
Charles. John, don’t I look charming?
John. Quite enchanting! If you were my grandmother, I should certainly fall in love with you.
Charles. Where’s my wig?
Fournichon. Here are plenty, just choose one for yourself.
John. These curls are what will suit me. [Puts on the wig, and a round straw hat on the top of it.]
Charles. This grey one will just do for me. [Puts it on, and then the cap.] Now, I’m ready! Sapristi! How hot it is. There’s the bell.
John. Good gracious, now we’ve got it!
Fournichon. Quiet now; sit down before it’s too late.
Charles. What’s the good of that? our voices will betray us.
Fournichon. You must not talk. Just you trust to me, and it will be all right.