Seated in old armchairs in front of the stage, Fauchery and Bordenave were discussing various points while the prompter, Father Cossard, a little humpbacked man perched on a straw-bottomed chair, was turning over the pages of the manuscript, a pencil between his lips. "Well, what are they waiting for?" cried Bordenave on a sudden, tapping the floor savagely with his heavy cane.
At the same time, her uncle, M. Cossard, who was guardian of the minors of her family, and Mme. de Chuly, with whom she was residing, had each occasion to go to Paris, and so all three travelled in the same conveyance. This was on the 6th of February, 1653, Margaret Bourgeois being thirty-three years old.
You must lean forward like this in order to catch hold of the duchess. And then you, Rose, must change your position like that but not too soon only when you hear the kiss." He broke off and in the heat of explanation shouted to Cossard: "Geraldine, give the kiss! Loudly, so that it may be heard!" Father Cossard turned toward Bosc and smacked his lips vigorously. "Good!
It looked like a big yellow eye glaring through the surrounding semiobscurity, where it flamed in a doubtful, melancholy way. Cossard was holding up his manuscript against the slender stem of this arrangement. He wanted to see more clearly, and in the flood of light his hump was sharply outlined. As to Bordenave and Fauchery, they were already drowned in shadow.
As this last lady's part had not yet been assigned to anyone, Father Cossard had got up to read it, and he was now figuring away in Bosc's arms and emphasizing it despite himself. At this point, while the rehearsal was dragging monotonously on, Fauchery suddenly jumped from his chair. He had restrained himself up to that moment, but now his nerves got the better of him. "That's not it!" he cried.
She had already made the sacrifice interiorly, many years before, by the vow of poverty, and she now determined to make it legally, in a manner not to be reversed. M. Cossard endeavored to dissuade his niece from such an absurdity, as it appeared to him, but his eloquence and reasoning were useless, and the property was deeded away.
"Pardon to deserters who will rejoin their colours, and rewards to officers who will come over to us." These were seized by the officers before the men could see them, but one of the officers themselves, Charles Cossard de Terraneau, a sub-lieutenant of the garrison, took advantage of the offer to go over to the English.
There's no sense in it. And it's so simple, after all's said and done! You, Fontan, mustn't move. You, Rose, must make your little movement, just that, no more; d'ye see? And then you come down. Now then, let's get it done this journey. Give the kiss, Cossard." Then ensued confusion. The scene went no better than before.