Eighteen sous.--Note the gunners and the cuirassiers; see how the sabres
play, while the cannonballs meet in mid air and the shells spread fire
and blood on all sides; see the hussars, the dragoons, the trumpets, and
the drums! hear the shrieks of the dead and dying, the moans of the
wounded and vanquished. See that young soldier on the right, defending
his flag with his teeth, because both his arms have been cut off; and at
the left, that officer who has three dead horses upon him, and who
forgets that he is suffocating while he takes aim at the enemy's
general. See the dust, the flame, the smoke, the carnage, and the
corpses that embellish the picture. The action is superb, you see; the
battle waxes hotter and more furious----
At this point, the explanation was interrupted by an unforeseen
catastrophe: the young woman and the soldier, who were evidently taking
the liveliest interest in the battle,--for I kept hearing exclamations
from the damsel and energetic monosyllables from her companion,--not
content with moving the curtain, threw themselves violently against the
magic lantern, at the most critical point of the Battle of Marengo. The
shock was so violent that the ambulatory theatre could not sustain it;
it fell backward, and the spectators fell upon it, while the manager of
the establishment was thrown to the ground with his bowl of soup, and
Madame Trousquin was entangled by the cords that she held in each hand.
I was left standing alone in the midst of the devastation, for my great
tree preserved me from all peril. What a grotesque picture was presented
to my eyes! Solomon and the great Kin-Kin-Li-King were lying in a heap
with the gardens of the Luxembourg and of Athens; the sun no longer
shone, the moon was covered with oil, the comet shorn of its tail. Père
Trousquin was struggling under his broken lantern, still holding in his
hand the handle of his bowl; and the young woman had fallen in a posture
that disclosed beauty which would have put to shame the most perfect
moon that ever graced a magic lantern. The young soldier's head was in
Père Trousquin's bowl; his face was covered by carrots and onions; he
seemed to be caught in such a way that he could not extricate himself
from the trap. As for Mère Trousquin, she had fallen gracefully; her
cords had held her up, and the curtain of the lantern concealed what
might have caused her modesty to blush. However, as those who are least
hurt always make the most noise, Madame Trousquin's shrieks were simply
deafening; her husband uttered the most frightful oaths, and the young
woman groaned plaintively. The soldier alone made no outcry; I believe
that he found the soup and vegetables to his liking. All the idlers in
the neighborhood were attracted to the broken lantern by the uproar, the
shrieks and oaths; and I was surrounded in an instant by a crowd of
people who came from I don't know where; for a moment before I could not
see a soul on the Champs-Élysées. My retreat was cut off; I could not
make my way out of the crowd; but I was not sorry to see how it would
end. After shouting and swearing to their heart's content, the
unfortunates tried to extricate themselves from the tangle they were in:
the soldier succeeded in uncovering his face, the girl rose and arranged
her skirts. Mère Trousquin disentangled herself from her cords, the
magic lantern was lifted from the ground, and Père Trousquin struggled
to his feet. The soldier tried to slink away with his companion; but he
could not elude the owner of the lantern, who insisted that he should
pay for the damages.
"My glasses are smashed," said Père Trousquin; "you've spoiled my sun
and moon, you've broken my Judgment of Solomon and my Chinese palace,
and ruined my views of Greece; you've got to pay me for all that."
"Go to the devil!" said the soldier, repairing the disorder of his
costume as best he could. "I won't pay you for anything at all. What do
I care for your Chinese and your Solomon! your sun and moon look just
like the night lights you buy for a sou; and as for your fat, just put
it in your lamps."
"You broke my lantern, and you've got to pay me for it."
"You're an old drunkard; if your lantern wasn't firm on its legs, it's
no fault of mine."
"You tumbled against it during the Battle of Marengo."
"You threw it over, yourself, trying to imitate cannon."
"You made me break my bowl."
"You're responsible for my tearing my breeches."
"Besides, my lantern is a moral and respectable show, and I don't
propose to have it used for----"
"I say! stop that, or I'll cut out your tongue!"
The soldier put his hand to his sword; the crowd instantly made a
backward movement, the girl clung to her friend's arm, and Mère
Trousquin pulled her husband out of range, taking the stool for a
buckler. The two adversaries measured each other with their eyes for
several minutes, without moving. The soldier gave no sign of paying, and
Père Trousquin did not seem to be in a mood to let him go away until he
had remunerated him for his losses. Thereupon I concluded that there was
but one way to adjust the affair without bloodshed. The magic lantern
episode had amused me, and had entirely dispelled my ill humor; it was
no more than fair that I should act as mediator in the dispute. I alone
had remained near the combatants; for the bystanders held themselves
respectfully aloof from the sword and the stool. I felt in my pocket and
took out two five-franc pieces, which I tossed upon the damaged lantern.
"There," said I to the proprietor, "is the means to restore your palaces
and your planets; but take my advice, and another time don't fasten your
curtain so closely round your audience. Children's theatres are
frequented now by people of all ages; if you don't believe me, ask
Séraphin, who receives _petite-maîtresses_ at his show, because of the
darkness in the hall during his arabesque fires."
Père Trousquin stared with all his eyes; his wife pounced on the two
coins, and the soldier was allowed to go his way with his companion;
which he did not do without bowing to me most respectfully.
I too walked away, and turned into Rue de Rivoli. I looked at my watch;
it was only nine o'clock, and I have never been fond of going to bed
early, especially when I am in the mood for amusing myself. As the scene
of the magic lantern had put me in that mood, I determined to encourage
such a desirable disposition.
How was I to amuse myself? There are thousands of ways in Paris, you
will say; but, in the matter of pleasure, you must never promise
yourself too much, if you wish to have a little. In a large assembly,
for six agreeable people you will find twenty bores; in a small party,
your friends may have business affairs that annoy them; the ladies, sick
headaches or the vapors; and you often pass a very dull hour where you
looked forward to much entertainment. The wisest plan, therefore, is not
to count upon anything. But I remembered that there was a grand fête at
Tivoli. It was nine o'clock; if I took a cab, I should arrive just at
the height of the evening.