“How d’ye do?” said Fontan, shaking hands with Mignon and Fauchery, who now came into the room.
Old Bosc himself gave them the tips of his fingers while the two women kissed Mignon.
“A good house this evening?” queried Fauchery.
“Oh, a splendid one!” replied Prullière. “You should see ’em gaping.”
“I say, my little dears,” remarked Mignon, “it must be your turn!”
Oh, all in good time! They were only at the fourth scene as yet, but Bosc got up in obedience to instinct, as became a rattling old actor who felt that his cue was coming. At that very moment the callboy was opening the door.
“Monsieur Bosc!” he called. “Mademoiselle Simonne!”
Simonne flung a fur-lined pelisse briskly over her shoulders and went out. Bosc, without hurrying at all, went and got his crown, which he settled on his brow with a rap. Then dragging himself unsteadily along in his greatcoat, he took his departure, grumbling and looking as annoyed as a man who has been rudely disturbed.
“You were very amiable in your last notice,” continued Fontan, addressing Fauchery. “Only why do you say that comedians are vain?”
“Yes, my little man, why d’you say that?” shouted Mignon, bringing down his huge hands on the journalist’s slender shoulders with such force as almost to double him up.