“In fact, papa, the p—p—piano has become such a common inst—st—strument, that I would rather play something else.”
“What, I should like to know?”
“Why, the little flute, for example.”
“You are mad, Eolinde; it would be very pretty to see a young lady playing on the flute! Wind instruments are exclusively for men.”
“Why is that, papa?”
“Why, because, as Apollo played the flute when he kept flocks, and as that god was the god of melody, the pipes and the flute—By the way, Lolotte, I hope you told Chambourdin to come; he’s a very pleasant fellow, a leader in all sorts of fun, always merry and a true sport. He will act, and I’ll wager that he’ll be most amusing!”
“Don’t you know, monsieur, that we can’t rely on your Chambourdin? You know very well that he never keeps his word; when he promises to come, that’s the end of it. If we relied on him to take a part, he would spoil the whole performance. But we shall have Monsieur Mangeot and his sister; they are obliging and agreeable. Monsieur Mangeot takes the part of clowns and mimics very well; he plays carefully and always knows his part, and so does his sister.”
“True, but as his sister is extremely hard of hearing, she always has to stand within two steps of the prompter, which is a great nuisance for the action of the play; and sometimes too she talks at the same time that her opposite is talking.—Bigre! here comes that pain in the stomach again. What can it be? Did we have mushrooms yesterday, Lolotte?”
“Mushrooms? there were some in the vol-au-vent we had; but everybody ate some of it, and it didn’t make anybody sick.”
“That doesn’t prove anything; sometimes it doesn’t show itself until late; Eolinde, you haven’t a pain in your stomach, have you?”