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Updated: May 21, 2025
Madame, Monsieur, and Mademoiselle Chapoulot had been wakened, and could not sleep for the noise; they called his attention to the fact that the day was quite long enough for rehearsals of theatrical music, and added that people ought not to "strum" all night in a house in the Marais. It was then three o'clock in the morning. At half-past three, La Cibot appeared, just as Pons had predicted.
It so fell out that the first-floor lodger, M. Chapoulot, a retired braid manufacturer from the Rue Saint-Denis, returning from the Ambigu-Comique with his wife and daughter, was dazzled by a vision of such a costume and such a charming woman upon their staircase. "Who is that, Mme. Cibot?" asked Mme. Chapoulot.
Madame, Monsieur, and Mademoiselle Chapoulot had been wakened, and could not sleep for the noise; they called his attention to the fact that the day was quite long enough for rehearsals of theatrical music, and added that people ought not to "strum" all night in a house in the Marais. It was then three o'clock in the morning. At half-past three, La Cibot appeared, just as Pons had predicted.
"Your daughter must be more inflammable than tinder, madame, if you are afraid that she will catch fire by touching me," she said. M. Chapoulot waited on the landing. "She is uncommonly handsome off the stage," he remarked. Whereupon Mme. Chapoulot pinched him sharply and drove him indoors.
It so fell out that the first-floor lodger, M. Chapoulot, a retired braid manufacturer from the Rue Saint-Denis, returning from the Ambigu-Comique with his wife and daughter, was dazzled by a vision of such a costume and such a charming woman upon their staircase. "Who is that, Mme. Cibot?" asked Mme. Chapoulot.
Be easy. I will give Mme. Chapoulot a dressing down.... To think of a retired haberdasher's wife giving herself such airs!" Schmucke went to his room and took up his post in the closet. La Cibot had left the door ajar on the landing; Fraisier came in and closed it noiselessly as soon as he heard Schmucke shut his bedroom door.
"Your daughter must be more inflammable than tinder, madame, if you are afraid that she will catch fire by touching me," she said. M. Chapoulot waited on the landing. "She is uncommonly handsome off the stage," he remarked. Whereupon Mme. Chapoulot pinched him sharply and drove him indoors.
Be easy. I will give Mme. Chapoulot a dressing down. . . . To think of a retired haberdasher's wife giving herself such airs!" Schmucke went to his room and took up his post in the closet. La Cibot had left the door ajar on the landing; Fraisier came in and closed it noiselessly as soon as he heard Schmucke shut his bedroom door.
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