‘To think,’ said the abbe, ‘of his paying such a mark of respect to a comedian—a vagabond whom the church has excommunicated! A bad example, monsieur—a bad example.’ And the abbe shook his head.
The comédie-ballet of the Princesse d’Elide followed; and Jean was obliged to vow that it was dull enough for a court performance, although compressed. He was a little relieved, however, by the appearance of Estelle des Urlis—the ‘Estelle’ whom Theria had left so unceremoniously when he fled to Liége, and who had returned to the profession from which he had taken her. She played Cynthie, cousin of the Princess; and her costume showed off her neat figure and pretty face to great advantage. Marotte Dupré, who enacted Aglante, her companion and friend, exchanged, as Jean observed, anything but friendly glances with Estelle, whenever the action of the piece brought them together.
‘Would you like to visit the coulisses!’ asked the abbe, when the curtain fell at the end of the second act. ‘I have the entree; we shall escape the crowd of the salle, and perhaps I may find time to read you my poem.’
Jean shuddered at the prospect; but his wish to display himself braved even this condition, and he replied—
‘With pleasure. I know some of the ladies of the company, and should be glad to exchange a few words with one of them.’
He winked significantly as he said so; wishing to impress the abbe with a notion that his acquaintance with the actresses was something very mysterious and improper.
Making their way with difficulty through the crowd, they left the auditory, and after some trouble found the entrée des artistes, or stage door.
The abbe procured instant admission; and Jean, who was all impatience to show off his martial dress to Estelle, took advantage of his companion’s seizing the button of Chapelle, the friend of Molière, and noted epicurean, to slip away to the foyer, where he found, not Estelle, as he had expected, for she was on the stage at the moment, but Marotte Dupré, surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and flinging bright glances and bon mots amongst them with a prodigality that was rewarded by a constant accession to her circle.
Jean hovered about, in the vain endeavour to thrust his little body into the way of a stray compliment, but in vain, until the appearance of Mademoiselle Molière—as Amande de Béjart was called, though the wife of the great author-actor—drew away the greater number of Marotte’s court to the more potent one of the handsomest and most spirituelle coquette of the stage. Upon this, with true Gascon assurance, Jean seized the opportunity of commencing a fire of high-flown compliments to Marotte, who, nothing loath, added fuel to the fire by her answers. In fact, he quite forgot Estelle, and was becoming helpless in the toils of her lively rival, when he was suddenly recalled to his responsibilities by a terrific box on the ear. He turned, and, to his intense terror, beheld Mademoiselle des Urlis, who had watched his flirtation until her woman’s jealousy could bear it no longer. Tiresome as Blacquart’s admiration was to herself, she could not see it transferred to Marotte, who, from her first appearance in Molière’s comedy, seemed to have taken a malicious pleasure in rivalling poor Estelle alike on the stage and the coulisses.
‘Trou de Diou! that you were a man, mademoiselle!’ cried the Gascon, as red as a turkey-cock, and fumbling at his sword-hilt.