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Ah! I tell you, this cowardliness enrages me; I cannot forgive it. We must live live a complete life live all our life. Better even suffering, suffering only, than such renunciation the death of all there is in us that is living and human!" M. Bellombre had risen, and was walking along one of the walks with slow, tranquil steps.
Blessed is the happy chance that has directed our steps hither, to the philosophic retreat where this histrionic hero reposes tranquilly upon his laurels." "Come in, I pray you, ladies and gentlemen," said Bellombre, advancing to meet them, with a graceful courtesy which proved that the ci-devant actor had not put aside his elegant, courtly manners when he donned his peasant dress.
But what was his surprise when Bellombre swept them all up and put them into his own hands. "You must have understood," he said, "that I did not bring out this money in order to torment you in like manner with Tantalus, and I want you to take it, without any scruples, as freely as it is given or loaned, if you are too proud to accept a gift from an old friend.
It is warm and bright and cosy in this room, and we appreciate and enjoy it all doubly, after the darkness and the cold and the danger from which we have escaped into the grateful shelter of this hospitable roof; and to crown the whole, our host is the grand, illustrious, incomparable Bellombre flower and cream of all comedians, past, present and future, and best of good fellows."
Blazius and Bellombre were old acquaintances, and had formerly been members Of the same troupe; as their respective roles did not clash there was no rivalry between them, and they had become fast friends being fellow worshippers at the shrine of the merry god of wine. Bellombre had retired from the stage some years before, when at his father's death he inherited this farm and a small fortune.
"Look!" said the doctor, "M. Bellombre has already dined, and he is taking the air." He pointed to a bench, on which a tall, thin old man of seventy was sitting, with a long face, furrowed with wrinkles, and large, staring eyes, and very correctly attired in a close-fitting coat and cravat. "He is a wise man," murmured Clotilde. "He is happy." "He!" cried Pascal. "I should hope not!"
"Halloa! all of you there," cried the pedant suddenly, in a joyful voice, "come on without fear, you will be made welcome by a friend and a brother, a world-famed member of our profession, the darling of Thespis, the favourite of Thalia, no less a personage than the celebrated Bellombre you all know his glorious record.
"Only the great Bellombre himself would ever be suffered to say such things as these of that most illustrious ornament of our profession," said the tyrant, courteously.
"Our happiness would be complete if only poor Matamore were here," said Isabelle with a sigh. "Pray what has happened to him?" asked Bellombre, who knew him by reputation. The tyrant told him the tragic story of the snow-storm, and its fatal consequences.
"That would have been a pity indeed," Bellombre rejoined, and glancing admiringly at Isabelle and Serafina, added gallantly, "but surely these young goddesses would have melted the snow, and thawed the ice, with the fire I see shining in their sparkling eyes."
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