FRENCH IMPULSIVENESS AND BRITISH SANGFROID ILLUSTRATED BY TWO
REMINISCENCES.
Two incidents that took place lately, in Paris and London respectively,
may serve to illustrate French impulsiveness and English _sangfroid_.
The other evening the opera "Les Huguenots" was played at the Grand
Opera. The singer who took the part of _Marcel_ was out of sorts, and
sang flat. An old gentleman, seated in an orchestra stall, was observed
to be restless and uncomfortable during the performance. At the end of
the last act, _Marcel_ passes before the church, just at the moment when
the _Duke of Nevers_ and his partisans come out of it.
"_Qui vive?_" cries the _Duke_.
"Huguenot," answers _Marcel_, and he falls, shot dead by the followers
of the _Duke_.
This part of the opera had no sooner been acted, than the old gentleman,
who now looked radiant, rose from his seat, put on his hat, and, shaking
his fist at the dead hero, to the great amusement of the public, cried
at the top of his voice:
"You donkey, it serves you right, you have been singing out of tune the
whole evening."
And indignantly he left the theater.
* * * * *
In a beautifully appointed English house, afternoon tea, served in
costly china, had just been brought to the drawing-room, when the
mistress of the house inadvertently overturned the tea-table. Without
the slightest show of vexation, without _oh!_ or _ah!_ Lady R----calmly
touched the bell, and, on the appearance of the domestic, merely said:
"Take this away, and bring more tea."
"My dear," whispered Lady P---- to a friend, "she won't match that china
for $500."
* * * * *
Another illustration of the latter:
A fearful railway accident has taken place. The first car, with its
human contents, is reduced to atoms.
An Englishman, who was in one of the first-class cars at the rear,
examines the _debris_.
"Oh!" he says to an official, pointing to a piece of flesh wrapped up in
a piece of tweed cloth. "Pick that up, that's the piece of my butler
that has got the keys of my trunks."