The attraction of the show was to see the great Dompteur, Pezon. He had been almost eaten by his lions a few months ago, and was to make his reappearance accompanied by a beautiful songstress who would charm the beasts to sleep. Pezon was just like the other Dompteurs, only older and fatter, and the beautiful lady was such a pet! Enormously stout, in pink satin, with quite bare neck and arms; the Vicomte said that the lions had to be surfeited with food beforehand, to keep them from taking their dessert off this tempting morsel. She began to sing through her nose about "l'amour," &c., and those lions did look so bored; the eldest one simply groaned with ennui. His face said as plainly as if he could speak, "At it again to-night!" and "Oh! que cela m'embête." When the song was finished, the Belle Chanteuse stretched herself on two chairs, making herself into a sort of bridge for the animals to jump over. From our position we could only see mountains of pink satin embonpoint, and the soles of her feet. The lions had the greatest difficulty in jumping not to kick her. What a life, Mamma! Then Pezon put his head right into the old lion's mouth, and so ended the performance.
Inspecting the Machinery
When we got outside, a man was ringing a bell opposite, to invite every one in to see a woman with only a head; she could speak, he said, but had no body. The Baronne insisted upon going in. It was a tiny cell of a place and crammed full. Presently a head appeared on a pedestal and spoke in a subdued voice. All the others said it was a fraud, but I thought it wonderful. "Antoine" wanted to go beyond the barrier and touch it, which was mean of him, I think. Presently a villainous-looking old hag, who was exhibiting the creature, came over, and whispered in "Antoine's" ear. I only caught "cinq francs," but his face looked interested at once, and he and Jean disappeared behind the curtain and the head disappeared too, so we went outside, and bought "farings" at the next booth. There they joined us. "Alors, mes amis?" demanded every one. "Pas la peine, très mal faite," said "Antoine"; so I suppose it was the machinery they had been examining. The next thing we came to was a sort of swing with flying boats, but no one was brave enough to try it except the Marquise and me, though all the men wanted to come with us. You sit opposite one another, and they are much higher than the ones in England. Jean would come with me, though I wanted the Vicomte—so I was glad it made him look quite green.
It chanced that "Antoine" was beside me as we walked to the pistol booth, so I asked him if he had been in Paris on Friday, and he looked so hard at me, you would have thought I was asking a State secret; but he said that alas! no, he had been detained at Versailles. So it could not have been him after all; there must be a lot of French people exactly alike, I never keep making these mistakes in England.
Have you ever fired off a pistol, Mamma? it is simply horrid. The pistol booth was next after the "farings" shop, and the prizes were china monsters and lanterns, &c. The Comtesse is a splendid shot, and hit the flying ball almost each time; she is such a quiet little thing, one would not expect it of her. The Baronne made a lot of fuss, and said she knew it would kill her, until Hippolyte, who was behind the party with her cloak, said: "Madame la Baronne doit essayer c'est nécessaire que toutes les belles jeunes dames sachent comment se défendre." And she fired off the pistol at last with her eyes shut, and it was a mercy it did not kill the attendant, the ball lodged in the wall just beside him, so we thought we had better leave after that!
The Montagnes Russes
Next came the Montagnes Russes. How I love a switchback, Mamma! If I were the Queen I would have a private one for myself, and my particular friends, round Windsor Castle; I could go on all day. The Marquis and the Vicomte kept so close to me that Jean could not take the seat beside me, as I saw he intended to, and then the other two made quite a shuffle, but the Vicomte won. The person who sits next you is obliged to hold your arm to prevent your tumbling out. I looked round to see, and every one was having her arm held, but I don't believe the Vicomte need have gripped mine quite so tight as he did. We had three turns; next time the Marquis was beside me, and he was more violent than the Vicomte. So when it came to the last, and Jean scrambled in, and began to hold tighter than either of the others, I just said my arm would be black and blue, and I would rather chance the danger of falling out, in a seat by myself, than put up with it. That made him sit up quite straight. I can't see why people want to pinch one; can you, Mamma? I call it vulgar, and I am sure no Englishman would do it. It seems that Frenchmen are awfully respectful, and full of ceremony and politeness, and then every now and then—directly they get the opportunity—they do these horrid little tricks.
The next entertainment was really very curious. It was a marble woman down to her waist, and as you looked, the marble turned into flesh, her eyes opened, and she spoke; then her colour faded, and she turned into marble again, and was handed round the audience; wasn't it wonderful, Mamma? I can't think how it was done, and as "Antoine" and Jean did not go behind the curtain to examine the machinery, I suppose we shall never know.
The Fun of the Fair
After that there were endless shows—performing dogs, fortune-telling, circuses, etc.—but the nicest of all was another merry-go-round, with seats which went up and down like a boat in a very rough sea. Hardly one of them would venture, but I made the Vicomte come with me for two turns; he looked so pale at the end of it, and when I wanted to go a third time, he said we must be getting on, and no one else offered to come. Wasn't it stupid of them, as it was by far the most exciting part of the Foire? It was half-past twelve before we got back to the "Toison d'Or," and there had supper, with "Punch à l'Américaine." It is good, and you do feel so gay after it. One of the ladies with the pearls, who was also supping, was so friendly to the man next her; Pezon was of their party, and he did look common in clothes, while he was quite handsome in spangled tights.