“I suspected as much! that’s why I asked you to speak to him in that language.”
At that moment the company began to laugh and applaud, because a young man from among the guests had taken charge of the marionettes. The idea was heartily welcomed; everyone was anxious to pass judgment on the talent of the gentlemen present, and each one in turn was requested to manipulate Guignol’s characters.
When Freluchon’s turn came, he passed under the canvas, and began by exhibiting Polichinelle.
POLICHINELLE.—Sapristi! I am the happiest of men; I have made my fortune! I have inherited wealth! I have my pile! When I hadn’t a sou, I was as stupid as a goose, and no one looked at me. I could not make a conquest! No one would give me credit! I had holes in my breeches, the girls all thought me hideous, and my doctor always said to me: “You’re not sick; go to the devil!”
To-day, what a difference! I am witty; I can’t open my mouth without being applauded; people often laugh at my jokes even before I’ve made them. All the women ogle me; they think me as handsome as Apollo; if I tear a hole in my breeches, all the girls offer to patch it, and my doctor pays me two or three visits a day, assuring me every time that there’s something wrong with my insides.
But that is not all! I am married! I have married a magnificent woman, and all my friends are overjoyed, because they already knew my wife intimately, the result being that they’re perfectly at home in our house; it’s filled with them all the time. To be sure, there are some of them who look like pickpockets, knaves, swindlers, skinflints. But if one never entertained any but honest folk, one would see so little company!——
But here is monsieur le commissaire, I think; what has he come here for?
THE MAGISTRATE.—Have I the honor of speaking to Monsieur Polichinelle?
POLICHINELLE.—No, monsieur le commissaire, my name is no longer Polichinelle; that name was good enough when I had no money, when I was a poor pedestrian, a nobody, in fact. But now that I have a carriage, I call myself Monsieur de la Carrossière. That’s a name worthy to ride in a fine turn-out.
THE MAGISTRATE.—I beg pardon, Monsieur Polichinelle——