(_Le Cadre à l’Assiette._)
Did you ever see such a lovely bit of Sèvres as this plate? Observe the
delicacy of the tints and the dainty outlines of the floral decoration.
If I were in the musing mood, I might form quite a lecture on the scenes
which this piece of porcelain conjures up: the rise of Dubarry; her
downfall—Oh! the plate has slipped through my fingers, and I take it up
to find it broken.
Let me see: what is smashed china fit for? I forget—but I wonder, now,
if it would not make excellent wadding for a pistol! Let us try. Here is
the firearm, which I will load—on the powder I put the fragments of the
plate—Time _severs_ many a beauty from her mate—Plenty of room yet. I
must add these rings, with which my obliging auditors have furnished me,
and this ribbon. A very formidable charge!
Boy! a target!
Call that a target?
Why, it is a black board in a frame. Never mind; it will do, unless I
make a butt of you! [_Exit the Attendant._]
Click! bang!
When the smoke clears away, there is seen in the middle of the framed
black space the ribbon, rings, watches, or whatever was used for
cartridges, and the plate restored except for one small fragment. It
seems that I left a piece out of the barrel. Oh! Is it not here under
this obliging young lady’s fan? I thought so; thank you.