The young lady who was to play Fanchon did not understand why Cupids were needed, not knowing that a little surprise was being prepared for her. Madame de Marsan tried to repair Raymond’s indiscretion. The rehearsal went on and lasted until one in the morning, when, being thoroughly exhausted, we all went to bed, longing ardently for the morrow; and Raymond intrusted his two Cupids to the housekeeper, with instructions to cleanse them and make them get up early, so that he would have time to teach them what they had to do.
XXV
ALMAVIVA AND ROSINE.—A SCENE ADDED TO LE BARBIER DE SÉVILLE
The great day arrived. The ladies rose early; the thought of their costumes had kept them awake. The men, who are sometimes as coquettish as the ladies, were all absorbed by their costumes or their rôles. I was less engrossed by the great affair of the evening, because my passion for Madame de Marsan, intensified by the obstacles it had encountered, occupied my thoughts quite as much as the play. But the busiest of all was Raymond. He was out of bed at daybreak. He sought out the two little peasants, and tried to make them move gracefully, and to teach them a little stage business, while he told them what they would have to do in the evening. The children stared at him, jumped into the air when he told them to dance, fell on the ground when he tried to make them stand on one leg, and began to cry when he told them to smile. My neighbor took them to the gardener, now transformed into a scene shifter, and repeated the lesson to him. The gardener was a dull-witted lout, who knew nothing at all, but who chose to pretend to understand instantly whatever was said to him.
“Do you know what you have to do to-night, my friend?” Raymond asked him.
“Yes, monsieur.”
“First, the wreath of flowers——”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Which you are to lower on Fanchon’s head.”
“Fanchon’s—yes, monsieur.”
“You are to fasten it to a cord hanging from the beam; do you know whether there is one?”