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Another room is set apart for billiards, where silent, absorbed individuals may be seen playing eternally at poule. In the evening a little band of skilled musicians, in the pay of the proprietor, perform choice morsels of beautiful music, and all this can be enjoyed for the price of a cup of coffee—twopence!
It will be the age of mon lait de poule et mon bonnet de nuit. And then the cotton extinguisher is pulled over the old noddle, and the little flame of life is popped out. Don't you know elderly people who make learned notes in Army Lists, Peerages, and the like? This is the batter-pudding, water-gruel of old age. The worn-out old digestion does not care for stronger food.
The voice of the master of the ceremonies could be heard jocose and solemn: "La poule! Advance! Set to partners!" Then the stamping of heavy shoes on the badly planed floor, and, above all, the melancholy sounds of the clarionet and the shrill notes of the cornet were audible.
The candid Denys at once admitted he had seen merrier jests hatched with less cackle. "'Twas a great matter to have got rid of hypocrisy. 'So, said I, 'I can give you the chaire de poule, if that may content ye. 'That we will see, was the cry, and a signal went round."
"Much better than that espece de poule mouillee I already forget his name who played last week. Oh a wet hen he was more like a drowned duck. So when I heard a comedian from Paris was coming, I said: 'I must wait' and Margot and I waited in the wings and we laughed. Oh yes, we laughed." "It's more than the audience did," said the miserable Andrew. The audience! Of Avignon!
The frigate, the Belle Poule, was cruising in the open sea for the purpose of finding the cruiser Le Berceau, from which she had been separated by a violent storm. It was broad daylight and in full sunshine.
'So it was lies all the while at Margate, she said to herself, walking about the room, stopping now and again to stare at some object which she did not see. 'There was no American, and no Chilperic, no Trone d'Ecosse, no L'Oeil Creve, no La Belle Poule, no Marguerite de Navarre. Lies, lies! Nothing but lies! He never intended to produce one of them, or that I should play "Fredegonde." Lies! Lies!
The frigate La Belle Poule, commanded by M. Chaudeau de la Clochetterie, was cruising in the Channel; she was surprised by the squadron of Admiral Keppel, issuing from Portsmouth; the Frenchman saw the danger in time, he crowded sail; but an English frigate, the Arethusa, had dashed forward in pursuit.
The voice of the master of the ceremonies could be heard jocose and solemn: "La poule! Advance! Set to partners!" Then the stamping of heavy shoes on the badly planed floor, and, above all, the melancholy sounds of the clarionet and the shrill notes of the cornet were audible.
This narrative, my dear Miss Smith, as you will have remarked, is not a simple tale merely, but is accompanied by many moral and pithy remarks which form its chief value, in the writer's eyes at least, and the above account of the sham Lacedaemon on board the "Belle Poule" has a double-barrelled morality, as I conceive.
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