The booming of a bass-drum and several blasts of a bugle followed the conclusion of the showman's speech. A few greenhorns and idlers entered the booth; but most of the spectators walked away, being well aware that what one sees at the door of such spectacles is always much more amusing than the exhibition inside.
Tobie took Madame Plays by the hand and led her back to her seat, for he was eager to renew the conversation, which was just becoming interesting. The fair dame made no objection, but said, as she resumed her seat:
"Albert doesn't come, and his behavior begins to have a very strange look."
Pigeonnier threw himself at her feet, crying:
"Even so! if he doesn't come, that is an additional reason for you to forget him, to take your revenge, to yield to me."
Madame Plays seemed to hesitate, and somewhat abated her severity toward the young man at her feet; but, as she was arranging her collar, her hand came in contact with the letter she had placed in her bosom. She took it out, saying:
"By the way, I couldn't see to read Albert's letter, on the boulevard. Let us see what he says, and in what terms he recommends you to me. After that, I will decide whether I ought to listen to you."
"Read it! read it!" cried Tobie, thinking that Albert's letter could not fail to have an effect favorable to himself.
Madame Plays read the letter to herself; but as she read on, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shot fire, and her face assumed an expression of the most intense indignation. To understand this change, we must remember that the heedless Albert had written his letter while his friend Mouillot was preparing the menu for their dinner. With no suspicion of what he was doing, but thinking that he was writing only the sentences which came into his mind, he had interspersed some of the dishes which Mouillot mentioned aloud for the behoof of the company; the result was an epistle thus conceived:
"Charming creature, you know how dearly I love you.—For three, that will be enough. Your image is constantly before me.—Calf's head en tortue. To save you the annoyance of waiting for me at our rendezvous, I send one of my intimate friends—perfectly fresh. He will stay with you—with white sauce."