"Yes," said Adolphe, "and we must have a third to toast our new venture. We will begin work upon it immediately."
"Amen!" cried Rousseau; and he raised his glass. "To the success of la Chasse et l'Amour!" he cried.
We took good care to do full justice to the toast, which was renewed until not one drop of the golden liquor was left in the bottle.
"The third bottle!" said Rousseau, as he drained the last drops of the second into his glass.
"Let us set to work on the draft.... The third bottle shall be brought up."
"All right, let us start!" cried Rousseau.
We rang for the servant, who removed the plates, dishes and cloth, leaving only the three glasses; then pens, ink and paper were put on the table, a pen was stuck into my hand, and the third bottle was brought up. It was emptied in a quarter of an hour's time, and by the end of an hour the plan was drawn up. Do not ask me to describe the play, I have no wish to remember it. We divided the twenty-one scenes which, I believe, composed the work, into three divisions of seven each. My seven were those of the beginning, Rousseau took the seven dealing with the denouement and de Leuven the middle seven. Then we arranged to meet again at dinner in a week's time to read the play, each undertaking to complete his part in a week. This was how plays of the old school were composed. Scribe has changed all that, after the fashion of Molière's doctor, who had located the liver on the left and the heart on the right. That which had been undertaken before Scribe's time in a spirit of caprice and flippancy was turned by him into a serious business. My seven scenes were written by the following night. At the appointed day we all met; both Adolphe and I had done our parts, but Rousseau had not written a word of his. He declared that he was so accustomed to writing in company that his ideas would not flow when he was alone, and he could not do a thing. We told Rousseau that that need certainly not stop him, for we would keep him company.
It was arranged that the evening of that day should be given up to revising Adolphe's and my portions, and that the following day the sittings should begin, during which Rousseau should compose his part. My part was read, and was received with great applause—one couplet especially astonishing Rousseau. The comic rôle was filled by a Parisian sportsman, bespectacled, a sportsman of the plain of Saint-Denis, in fact; and he sings the following lines in explanation of his prowess:—
"La terreur de la perdrix
Et l'effroi de la bécasse,
Pour mon adresse à la chasse,
On me cite dans Paris.
Dangereux comme la bombe,
Sous mes coups rien qui ne tombe,
Le cerf comme la colombe,
A ma seule vue, enfin,
Tout le gibier a la fièvre;
Car, pour mettre à has un lièvre,
Je sais un fameux lapin!"