“I will p—p—play the fair Ca—Ca—the fair Ca—Ca—Camille.”
“You are entitled to.”
“And my b—b—brother the robber chief.”
“Better and better—just as it used to be at Nicolet’s!”
“I say, I really believe Chambourdin is laughing at us! What do the company think?”
“No indeed! but it’s lawful to laugh, isn’t it?” said Chambourdin; “I don’t imagine that you are going to act with sober faces all the time. Besides, am I not one of your troupe? I will take whatever part you wish—a robber, a tyrant, a victim. But allow me to make one suggestion; instead of your Forêt Périlleuse, which is not wonderfully clever, and in which there is only one female part—and that one doesn’t come on in the first act—why don’t you give Roderic et Cunégonde? That’s a splendid parody on the fashionable melodrama, and full of wit from end to end; indeed, it’s by the late Martainville, who had wit to sell, so I have been told; for I never knew him.”
Chambourdin’s suggestion was generally approved, except by Mademoiselle Eolinde, who regretted the fair Camille; but they gave her the part of Cunégonde, which was more in her line, because there are no long speeches in it.
“But there’s a child in Roderic et Cunégonde,” said Monsieur Mangeot.
“That’s all right! we’ll make one.”
“What do you say? you’ll make one?”