Photo by F. Berkeley Smith
THE QUIET STRETCH
Here a flat barge is moored to the bank, and in it three people are fishing. In the bow sits a genial clean-shaven old gentleman, a celebrated actor, whose red cravat is reflected in the water by a wiggling scarlet spiral. In the middle of the barge is seated Mademoiselle Yvette, of the Bouffes Parisiennes. Her cork has just disappeared with the rush of a foolish goujon, and is straightway pulled up, amid screams from the excited demoiselle, with a jerk sufficient to land a whale. At her side a man of thirty-five, sunburned, well-built and immaculate in white flannels, is extricating the unfortunate goujon from the tangled hook and line.
“Oh! c’est beau! n’est-ce pas, Jacques?” cries Yvette, clapping her hands.
“Oui, oui, ma petite,” returns Jacques, happy over her delight.
“Et toi, chéri,” laughs Yvette, consolingly, “tu n’as encore rien attrappé, ça ne fait rien, je te donnerai le mien.”
The old gentleman with the scarlet tie rises and bows majestically to Yvette in recognition of her skill.
A short pantomime follows, in which these two bons garçons present her with a wreath of honor made of leaves gathered from the bank.
“Ah! mes enfants,” cries Yvette, “you are always so good to me!” and she kisses the old gentleman in quite a fatherly way on both cheeks and gives her beloved Jacques a little hug of delight. Then all three return seriously to their fishing.
