“It is the major-domo again. Step in under the frame, M. Goefle; I will put on my mask and open the door; he must see what is going on.”
When M. Goefle was out of sight, and Christian masked, the door was opened to M. Johan.
“What is the matter?” asked Christian, going promptly to the point. “Shall we go on?”
“Why not, M. Waldo?” said the major-domo.
“I fancied that his lordship was indisposed.”
“Oh, he often suffers from nervousness, when he remains long in one place. It is nothing, however. He has just sent me to tell you that you are to go on whether he returns or not; he would regret to have the company disappointed of their entertainment. But what an odd idea that was of yours, M. Christian, to represent our old Stollborg in your theatre!”
“I hoped it might please his lordship the baron,” said Christian, with effrontery. “Was I mistaken?”
“His lordship is enchanted with the idea; he said over and over, ‘Capital! How good it is! You would think it was the old donjon itself.’”
“I’m very glad indeed,” returned Christian; “in that case we’ll continue. Your servant, M. Major-domo! Come, M. Goefle, take courage,” he said, when Johan had gone; “you see it’s all correct, and that we have been only dreaming all day. Now I wager that the baron is the best fellow in the world, you will see that he will be converted, and we shall have to canonize him.”
The baron concluded to return, after all, and the second act, which was short and lively, seemed to amuse him extremely. Don Sancho did not appear. M. Goefle made no more slips of the tongue, and succeeded so well in disguising his voice, that nobody suspected his presence. In the next intermission he drank sundry glasses of port to keep up his spirits, and during the third and last act, which was even more successful than the two preceding ones, he was, perhaps, a little elevated.