“Why, yes, several times.”
“And you like it?”
“I should say that I do like it! I think it’s beautiful, and if I was rich, I’d go often.”
“And what do you think of the actresses? Don’t you think it must be delightful to appear in public, to be applauded, to wear hundreds of different costumes, and to be stared at and admired by a whole theatre full of people?”
“Oh! how fast you go! That must be fine when one has talent. I have seen some women who acted so well that you couldn’t get tired listening to them; but I’ve seen others who acted so poorly that everybody grumbled, and laughed when they were trying to make you cry. I have seen some pretty ones; but there are some terribly ugly ones; and it’s no use for them to wear handsome costumes and a lot of paint on their faces; it don’t make them any better-looking.—But what makes you say all this to me?”
“Because, Violette, if you choose to go on the stage, it rests with you to do it; a glorious career is open to you, and I am sure that you will succeed, that you will obtain glory and wealth at once!”
“I an actress!—Are you making fun of me again, monsieur?”
“No, indeed, I am speaking in all seriousness. Listen to me: I am a dramatic author, so that the stage is my livelihood, or rather my constant study; therefore you must admit that I ought to know something about it. You have all that is needed for success on the stage: your figure is well set up, you are tall but not too tall; your face is lovely.—Oh! I am not paying compliments; indeed, you must know that you are pretty, you have been told so often enough! Your voice is clear and well modulated; with all these advantages and the lessons I will give you in declamation and in carrying yourself on the stage, it is impossible that you should not make a grand success. As for your getting a chance to make your début, that is my concern; I will undertake that and I shall have no difficulty. Better still, I will give you a part, a splendid part, in my next play; and as a reward of my zeal, of my lessons, of all that I will do for you, I will not ask you for anything,—except a little gratitude when you are a popular actress.—Well! what do you say? isn’t that better than being a flower girl?”
“Is that all you’re buying this morning, monsieur?”
“But you don’t answer my proposition, Violette. Don’t you understand that I am offering you a brilliant future—all the enjoyments, all the pleasures of life? And that won’t interfere with your remaining virtuous.”