“Ask M. Marchand,” I said to Mr. Stein, “why he has engaged a woman who gives a feeble copy of my dances when you wrote him from Berlin to propose his talking with me.”
Instead of translating my question my “interpreter” replied:
“Are you really so sure of yourself? Have you forgotten that you have been proposing to dance at the Opera? Perhaps he knows about it.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I replied. “Put the question to him just the same. And besides, this man doesn’t know anything.”
I learned afterwards that M. Marchand spoke English and understood it as well as Mr. Stein and I. He must have had great difficulty, that evening, in checking a longing to laugh. As a matter of fact he restrained it perfectly, for we were unable to detect it, and we did not discover that he was familiar with Shakespeare’s language.
Mr. Stein forthwith translated my question.
“I engaged this dancer,” replied M. Marchand in French, “because the Casino de Paris is announcing a serpentine dance and because I cannot afford to let them get ahead of me.”
“But,” I asked, “are there other dancers of this sort at Parisian theatres?”
“No. The one at the Casino has broken her engagement. But for my part I had already engaged your imitator. As you see, she is meeting with no great success, and I fancy that you will hardly achieve it either. Nevertheless, if you care to give me a rehearsal I am at your service.”
“Thank you. You would like me to give you a rehearsal so that a thief may steal some more of my dances!”