Glumeau shot through his guests like an arrow and offered his arm to the baroness, who accepted it. They adjourned to the dining-room and took their seats at the table in the order established by the cards. Madame de Grangeville naturally was seated beside the host, and Monsieur Camuzard was on her other side. Madame Glumeau had seated Monsieur de Merval beside herself, so that that gentleman was at some distance from the baroness; not so far, however, that his eyes did not meet hers from time to time; and, strange to say, at such times Monsieur de Merval always lowered his first.
When their appetites were appeased sufficiently to permit the guests to be agreeable, or at least to try to appear so, the conversation became animated, and they turned at last to the subject which had led to that festivity—the performance to be given on Monsieur Glumeau’s little stage in the country, and the distribution of parts.
“Unless something better is suggested, we propose to give La Forêt Périlleuse,” said Madame Glumeau.
“Very good,” said Chambourdin; “but in addition to the speaking parts, we must have robbers, a band of robbers.”
“We will find some,” said Glumeau; “robbers are not what we lack.”
“The deuce! are they abundant in the neighborhood of your country house?”
“Don’t joke, Chambourdin; if you do, nothing will ever be decided, and we must arrange everything to-day; we go into the country next week, and we must give the play at the end of June, no later.”
“Of course, with a theatre in the woods, we mustn’t wait until the bad weather begins.”
“Well then, we will say La Forêt Périlleuse; my servants and my gardener will be the robbers.”
“Oh! very good! excellent!”