The rehearsals had been going on a fortnight, when one day Mme. Bourjot
herself brought her daughter to the Mauperins. After the first greetings
she expressed her surprise at not seeing the chief actor.
"Oh, Henri has such a wonderful memory," said Mme. Mauperin; "he will
only need a couple of rehearsals."
"And how is it getting on?" asked Mme. Bourjot. "I must own that I
tremble for my poor Noémi. Is it going fairly well? I came to-day, in
the first place, to have the pleasure of seeing you, and then I thought
I should like to judge for myself----"
"Oh, you can be quite at your ease," said Mme. Mauperin. "You will see
how perfectly natural your daughter is. She is quite charming."
The actors went to their places and began the first scene of _The
Caprice_.
"Oh, you flattered her," said Mme. Bourjot to Mme. Mauperin after the
first two or three scenes. "My dear child," she continued, turning to
her daughter, "you don't act as though you felt it; you are merely
reciting."
"Oh, madame," exclaimed Renée, "you will frighten all the company. We
need plenty of indulgence."
"You are not speaking for yourself," answered Mme. Bourjot. "If only my
poor child acted as you do."
"Well, then," said Denoisel to Mme. Bourjot, "let us go on to the sixth
scene, mademoiselle. We'll hear what they have to say about that, for I
think you do it very well indeed; and as my vanity as professor is at
stake, Mme. Bourjot will perhaps allow me----"
"Oh, monsieur," said Mme. Bourjot, "I do not think it has anything to do
with the professor in this case; you are not responsible at all."
The scene was given and Mme. Bourjot continued, "Yes, oh yes, that
wasn't bad; that might pass. It's a namby-pamby sort of scene, and that
suits her. Then, too, she does her utmost; there's nothing to be said on
that score."
"Oh, you are severe!" exclaimed Mme. Mauperin.
"You see, I'm her mother," murmured Mme. Bourjot, with a kind of sigh.
"And then you'll have a crowd of people here----"
"Oh, you know one always gets more people than one wants on such
occasions," said Mme. Mauperin. "There is always a certain amount of
curiosity. I suppose there will be about a hundred and fifty people."
"Suppose I were to make the list, mamma?" suggested Renée, who was
anxious to spare Noémi the rest of the rehearsal, as she saw how ill at
ease her friend was. "It would be a good way of introducing our guests
to Mme. Bourjot. You will make the acquaintance of our acquaintances,
madame."
"I shall be very pleased," replied Mme. Bourjot.
"It will be rather a mixed dish, I warn you. It always seems to me that
the people one visits are rather like folks one comes across in a
stage-coach."
"Oh, that's a delightful idea--and so true too," said Mme. Bourjot.
Renée took her seat at the table and began to write down with a pencil
the names of the people, talking herself all the time.
"First comes the family--we'll leave that. Now, then, who is there? Mme.
and Mlle. Chanut, a girl with teeth like the pieces of broken glass
people put on their walls--you know what I mean. M. and Mme. de
Bélizard--people say that they feed their horses with visiting-cards."
"Renée, Renée, come, what will every one think of you?"
"Oh, my reputation's made. I needn't trouble any more about that. Then,
too, if you imagine that people don't say quite as much about me as I
say----"
"Oh, let her alone, please, let her alone," said Mme. Bourjot to Mme.
Mauperin, and turning to Renée she asked with a smile, "And who comes
next?"
"Mme. Jobleau. Ah, she's such a bore with her story about her
introduction to Louis Philippe at the Tuileries. '_Yes, sire; yes, sire;
yes, sire;_' that was all she found to say. M. Harambourg, who can't
stand any dust--it makes him faint--every summer he leaves his
man-servant in Paris to get the dust from between the cracks of the
floors. Mlle. de la Boise, surnamed the Grammar Dragoon; she used to be
a governess, and she will correct you during a conversation if you make
a slip with the subjunctive mood. M. Loriot, President of the Society
for the Destruction of Vipers. The Cloquemins, father, mother, and
children, a family--well, like Pan's pipes. Ah! to be sure, the Vineux
are in Paris; but it's no use inviting them; they only go to see people
who live on the omnibus route. Why, I was forgetting the Méchin
trio--three sisters--the Three Graces of Batignolles. One of them is an
idiot, one----"
Renée stopped short as she saw Noémi's scared eyes and horrified
expression. She looked like some poor, loving creature, who scarcely
understood, but who had suddenly been troubled and stirred to the depth
of her soul by all this backbiting. Getting up from her seat Renée ran
across and kissed her. "Silly girl!" she said gently, "why, these people
I am talking about are not people that I like."