"Are you crazy? She is billed for next Tuesday!"
"It is put off for a week."
"And you think a play could be written, read, distributed, learned and played between now and then?"
"I will do my part."
"Really."
"A day to write the play, one to get it re-copied, one for reading it; there will still be seven days for the rehearsals; a luxurious allowance!"
Eugène Durieu recognised the correctness of the calculation and gave me the benefit of his ideas. We thought of the subject of Le Mari de la veuve; but the plan was a long way from completion.
"Listen!" I said to Durieu, "it is noon; I have business until five o'clock. Anicet Bourgeois wishes to have his turn at the Théâtre-Français; why, I don't know. Some whim of his! Go and find him for me; settle the outlines of the drama with him, return together at half-past four and we will dine together. In the evening we will arrange the numbering of the scenes; I can set to work on the play to-night or to-morrow morning, and, in any case, at whatever time I start upon it, it shall be finished twenty-four hours later."
Durieu left at a run. I returned at five, as I had said, and found my two collaborators at the task. The foundations were not yet laid; I came to the rescue. They left me at midnight, leaving me a number of scenes nearly completed. The next day, as I had promised, I set to work. I was at my third or fourth scene when the chambermaid entered, looking terrified and as pale as death.
"Ah! Monsieur! Monsieur! Monsieur!" she said.