On the third evening he went to the “Variétés,” where there was another “review.” This time the provincial thought his brain was turned.
“Ah,” said Eusebe, “I am the most ignorant being in the world, or else all the comedians and those who listen to them are fools. Why do they paint their faces like Indians? Why do they wear costumes which do not belong to any nation? Why do the public laugh so loudly at seeing them deceive a foolish old man? Why do they applaud when the comedians make use of words with a double meaning? Why do they sing àpropos of nothing? How do they manage to speak my mother-tongue so that I cannot understand it? I will go no more.”
On the following evening, however, he resumed his visits, saying that perhaps the theatres were not all alike!
He passed five hours at the “Gaieté,” listening to the history of a lost child. On the ensuing evening he went to the “Ambigu,” to witness the representation of a drama based upon the history of a foundling. Subsequently, at the “Porte Saint-Martin,” he had the immense satisfaction of seeing in a single piece a child lost and found, then lost again, and, finally, recovered.
At the “Français,” at the “Odéon,” at the “Gymnase,” at the “Vaudeville,” and at the “Palais Royal,” the provincial saw the same piece in fifteen different forms: a young man wished to wed a young woman, and, notwithstanding a thousand obstacles, he succeeded in accomplishing his object.
“When I have seen two dozen of them married,” said Eusebe, “I will save my money.”