Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 20, 2025
It was in the green-room of the Ambigu, half an hour before the curtain rose on his fiftieth performance of the portier, and the old man was in his shirt-sleeves and with his apparel otherwise disordered.
It is most stupid, for your place is here. Just consider, and think it over for yourself. At the Gymnase they only give modern pieces, dressy plays. That is not your style. At the Vaudeville it is the same. At the Gaite you would spoil your voice. You are too distinguished for the Ambigu." I looked at him without replying. I saw that his partner had not spoken to him about the Comedie Francaise.
Close to the Ambigu, not the present theatre the neighbourhood of which had been searched but a former Ambigu, which had been shut up, opposite the Jardin Turc cafe, we heard a sort of platoon firing like the discharge of a mitrailleuse, and raising my eyes at the noise I saw smoke coming from a window which was half closed by an outside shutter.
Josse had introduced me to a dramatic author, Lambert Thiboust, a charming man who was certainly not without talent. He thought I was just the ideal actress for his heroine in La bergere d'Ivry, but M. Faille, an old actor, who had just become manager of the Ambigu Theatre, was not the only person to consult, for a certain M. de Chilly had some interest in the theatre.
He was irritated by the calumnies and libels so liberally cast upon him by the English journals, and especially by one written in French, called 'L'Ambigu', conducted by Peltier, who had been the editor of the 'Actes des Apotres' in Paris. The 'Ambigu' was constantly teeming with the most violent attacks on the First Consul and the French nation.
It's almost as good as it is at the Ambigu." That said, he restored order in the netting, pushed the two children gently down on the bed, pressed their knees, in order to stretch them out at full length, and exclaimed: "Since the good God is lighting his candle, I can blow out mine. Now, babes, now, my young humans, you must shut your peepers. It's very bad not to sleep.
Two colonels were waiting in the little ante-room. Saint-Arnaud was a general who had been a supernumerary at the Ambigu Theatre. He had made his first appearance as a comedian in the suburbs. A tragedian later on. He may be described as follows: tall, bony, thin, angular, with gray moustaches, lank air, a mean countenance. He was a cut-throat, and badly educated.
Then, at a corner of the piano, Fabien's hat, forgotten intentionally, was removed very awkwardly by a maid the moment after monsieur had entered the room. "Did you go to the Ambigu, my little girl?" "No, I changed my mind, and stayed at home to play music." "Who came to see you?" asked the marquis, good-humoredly, seeing the hat carried off by the maid. "No one."
He became impatient of all restraint, jealous of all honor offered to his confrères. The Ambigu won him away from the Porte Saint-Martin after a short time, and on the stage of his first successes he was supported by Madame Dorval, one of the finest actresses the French stage has known. These two dramatic powers did wonders, and the public divided its applause between them.
M. Violette had a college friend upon whom all the good marks had been showered, who, having been successively schoolmaster, journalist, theatrical critic, a boarder in Mazas prison, insurance agent, director of an athletic ring he quoted Homer in his harangue at present pushed back the curtains at the entrance to the Ambigu, and waited for his soup at the barracks gate, holding out an old tomato-can to be filled.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking