When Dubourg stalked upon the stage, majestically enveloped in his cloak, the audience emitted a murmur of surprise, which was not precisely admiration; for, with his huge wig, the rouge trickling down his cheeks, and his old musket over his shoulder, Dubourg was far from attractive to look upon. Judging from the head they had seen a moment before, they had expected to see a magnificent man of lofty stature; but, on the contrary, the cloak seemed to crush him, and Théramène, being very tall, made him appear even shorter than he was.
"He's a Pole," said the spectators.
"He's terribly ugly," said the young women; "but he is said to have great talent."
Dubourg rolled his eyes in terrifying fashion, to give character to his face; while the unlucky Théramène, whose head touched the flies, was obliged to stoop, so that his wig should not sweep the spiders' webs from the ceiling of the palace.
Dubourg, who was not at all timid, shouted his lines like a deaf man, and gesticulated so wildly that, before the end of the first scene, Théramène had been struck twice by him. At the third blow, the wigmaker began to lose his temper, and muttered between his teeth:
"Sacrebleu! look out what you're doing! if you go on like this, I shall be like a baked apple before the end of the play."
But the audience were delighted with his spirited acting; they applauded and cried bravo! Dubourg continued as he had begun, but not without alarming one woman in the pit who, being singularly affected by his contortions, left the place.
The first act went very well; but the audience manifested some little surprise when, instead of seeing Panope appear, they heard the prompter reading the rôle in his box; but, as it was not long, they let it pass, especially as Floridor, turning toward the pit, explained:
"Messieurs, the rôles of confidants are almost always given in this way in towns of the third order."
But Thésée had not arrived.