The house that my good and excellent Georges occupied, No. 12 rue Madame, was, if I remember rightly, made up of very original inhabitants. First of all, in the attics lived Jules Janin, the second tenant. Then came Harel, the principal tenant, who lived on the second floor. And on the first and ground floors were Georges, her sister and her two nephews. One of these two nephews, who is now a tall, fine, clever-looking young fellow who bears the name of Harel, had for a long time figured regularly on his aunt's playbills, both in the provinces and in Paris, for she could not do without him, either at the theatre or about town.
My readers will recollect the phrase which never varied for five or six years running—
"Young Tom, aged ten, will take the part of," etc.
The other names would vary from that of Joas to that of Thomas Diafoirus; but the age never varied: young Tom was always ten.
We ought to be fair to young Tom; he hated acting and, every time he had to go on the stage, he would mutter between his teeth—
"Curse the theatre! If only it could be burnt down!"
"What is that you are saying, Tom?" Mademoiselle Georges would ask.
"Nothing, aunt," Tom would reply; "I am only repeating my part."
His brother Paul, who was called "le petit Popol," was by far the funniest looking object that was ever seen: he had a charming head, with fine dark eyes and long chestnut hair, but his body was too small to carry the head. This disproportion gave the child a very grotesque appearance: he was immensely clever, a gourmand like Grimod de la Reynière, and the very opposite of Tom in that he would have stuck to the stage all his life, if he could only have managed to get plenty to eat thereby.