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He wiped out the public recollection of it to a great extent by his Evelyn in "Money," Sir Charles Pomander in "Masks and Faces," and Claude Melnotte in "The Lady of Lyons," which he played with me at the Princess's Theater for one night only in the August following the withdrawal of "The Merchant of Venice."
She tapped his sleeve. "Well, never mind. I may want the piano moved yet; you could do that for me, eh?" When Madame Schroeder-Schatz was in Mrs. Erlich's bedroom, powdering her nose before she put on her wraps, she remarked, "What a pity, Augusta, that you have not a daughter now, to marry to Claude Melnotte. He would make you a perfect son-in-law." "Ah, if I only had!" sighed Mrs. Erlich.
Let us remain together still Then it will be good-night!" I have already said that I never could cope with Pauline Deschapelles, and why Henry wanted to play Melnotte was a mystery. Claude Melnotte after Hamlet! Oddly enough, Henry was always attracted by fustian. He simply reveled in the big speeches.
We had a play one night in my room after lights were out, and Maria Collins was Claude Melnotte and I was Pauline. Maria had a mustache blackened on her lips with a piece of burnt cork and I was all fixed up in a dressing-gown and sash. We never heard Jonesy till she put her hand on the knob; then we blew out the candle and popped into bed.
On the lake lies the moon, but the hills are held by mysterious shadows, which for the time are as substantial to us as the hills themselves. Hints of habitation appear in the twinkling lights along the water's edge, and we suspect an alabaster lamp in every casement, and in every invisible house a villa such as Claude Melnotte described to Pauline, and some one mouths that well-worn fustian.
We could not help fancying that we could distinguish the home of Claude Melnotte amid those villages that dotted the splendid panorama; and the pleasure, with which I, at least, contemplated the fine old city, was not a little enhanced by its association with the Lady of Lyons and her peasant lover.
"Oh, bless my soul!" remarked Fogg, as he surveyed himself in the mirror, "you have ruined Draper's Melnotte blouse. What the blazes did you inundate me with that confounded red stuff for?" Handy looked at him seriously for a minute, and then replied: "There's gratitude for you. Ah! well, it's the way of the world all over.
"Can't you hold on until the show is over? What's the matter with you? Don't you see the house we have?" "Mein freund, dot's all right. But mein men der money wants. Don't dink I'm a fool because I'm a German man. I my money wants, too." "Mr. Handy, why don't you ring in the orchestra?" spoke Fogg, who had just come from his dressing-room made-up for Claude Melnotte.
She had once, as a little girl in Nimrim, Missouri, nearly swooned at the glory of this Lorraine Melnotte, and she had written him a little letter of adoration, one of some nineteen he received that day from lovelorn girls about the globe.
His mouth was liberally marked with Smith's home-made blood, for the carmine had been generously though dexterously employed. Everyone expressed sympathy for him. Handy, with the assistance of Smith, succeeded in getting him to his feet and managed to get him to the stage door in his Melnotte garb. Mrs. Doolittle's carriage was outside waiting, and he was assisted into it.
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