Floridor hurried from his box to reconcile Hippolyte and Aricie; he succeeded at last in pacifying them, and the performance continued. But, a moment later, Dubourg, being on the stage with Phèdre, waited for the prompter to give him his cue; but the cue did not come, because the prompter could not see.
"Snuffers!" he cried; "give me some snuffers!"
"What a stupid!" said Phèdre, and she stooped and took the candle, and gracefully snuffed it with her fingers. "There, my boy, that's the way we do when we have any instinct." And she replaced the candlestick in the box.
This little interlude was not agreeable to the audience, who had already begun to murmur at the quarrel between Hippolyte and the princess; and one enthusiast, who was more exacting than the rest because he had occasionally attended the theatre at Grenoble, threw a raw potato, which struck Phèdre in the left eye. The constable's wife finished the scene in tears, and the second act came to an end at the same time, with indications that a storm was brewing.
Floridor, who came out of his box after each act, ran on to the stage to console Phèdre, who declared that she would not act any more. He tried to restore the courage of his actors by assuring them that the later acts would make amends for everything; he relied especially on the début of Thésée, who had not yet appeared, and to whom he looked to produce a prodigious effect. But Thésée did not arrive, and the anxiety became general.
"What can have happened to him? I'll run back to the inn," said Dubourg, "for his delay begins to surprise me; I'll bring him back with me at once."
"Make haste!" cried Floridor; "for if we keep the audience waiting, everything will be hopelessly ruined."
Let us see why Ménard, who was so scrupulously exact in everything he had to do, had not arrived at the theatre. After Dubourg left him, he turned his attention to his toilet; and that was no small matter to a man who had never been to a ball, had never disguised himself, and had worn the same costume for thirty years. Ménard scrutinized the tunic, the Turkish trousers, and the turban, in every part; he had some difficulty in making up his mind to put on those yellow garments and to besmear his venerable cheeks with rouge; he had to remind himself constantly of Roscius, Garrick, and Molière, else he would have abandoned the idea of acting. But he had promised, his word was pledged; monsieur le baron, a noble Pole, set the example, and he must needs adapt himself to circumstances.
After an infinitude of trouble, he succeeded at last in arraying himself in the costume of Thésée. He looked at himself in the mirror, smiled at himself, and concluded that he looked very well; he kindled his own ardor by reflecting that he was about to represent the King of Athens, repeated his lines to himself, especially his first speech, then left his room to go to the theatre, saying to himself:
"Thus the Fates decree!"