The humiliating part of it was that neither Clifford nor Elliott could
attend the rehearsals of “the Queen of Siam” except in the orchestra.
Bobinot was omnipresent, and they were obliged to occupy their places.
Now the orchestra was sunk in a pit so far below the footlights that
although the musicians were visible to the audience, nothing on the stage
could be seen by the musicians themselves.
When Clifford was not obliged to blow his cornet, he could hear Claire’s
sweet voice:
“Oh, papa dear I much prefer
My helmet and my steel-ringed shirt,
My jewelled hilt, my gilded spur,
Targe, Casque, Tassett and Bassinet
So take away my waist and skirt!
Oh, take away
Oh, take away
Oh-h! take away my maiden’s skirt!”
Then he would stretch and crane his neck to see, but Bock always caught
him with the angry rat-tat-tat!—“hé! la bas!” and he would clutch his
cornet and breathe music and anathemas. “It’s a pretty state of affairs
if I can’t see my own play,” he grumbled to Elliott, “I’ll fix that ass,
Bock—just wait!”
When Claire and Georges Max held the stage, and the repartee made even
the prompter chuckle, Clifford’s curiosity almost crazed him, and he
cursed impartially, Bobinot, Bock, the orchestra and himself.
Claire was delicious, Max irresistible. Clifford squirmed and listened:
_Claire_; “L’archeveque!”
_Max_; “Mais non, il faut”—
_Claire_ (excited); “Qu’il vienne! Qu’il vienne! J’y suis, J’y reste!—Et
quil fait attention à mes éperons!”
_Max_; “Mais—mais—c’est moi l’Archiveque—”
_Claire_ (much disturbed); “Té! je le savais bien, Monseigneur!”
“That’s going to take like wildfire,” whispered Elliott lowering his
cornet; “I wish I could see the expression on Max’s face—”
“And on Claire’s! Hear the prompter laugh!”
“Look out—here comes the flourish—ready—now! Enter the Queen, you know!”
“Tara—ta-ta-tata!” wheezed the cornets for the entry of the Queen, while
Boissy’s snare drum rattled the salute.
Clifford was sulky and spoke no more that morning, but the next day he
went to see Selby.
“I’m d——d if I miss the first night of my own opera,” he muttered.