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Updated: May 19, 2025
But almost before the words were out of her mouth, Müller, clearing the candles at a bound, had rushed to the rescue, scalped Monsieur Dorinet by a tour de main, cast the blazing wig upon the floor, and trampled out the fire. Then followed a roar of "inextinguishable laughter," in which, however, neither the tragic Camille nor the luckless Horace joined.
Monsieur Dorinet clapped his hand to his head, which was now adorned with a rapidly-spreading glory; burned his fingers; and cut a frantic caper. "Save him! save him!" yelled Madame Marotte.
"Ah, mon Dieu!" she exclaims, gaspingly, "if they didn't flare so, it wouldn't be half so dangerous!" Here M. Dorinet dropped his book, and stooping to pick up the book, dropped his spectacles. "I think," said Mdlle. Honoria, indignantly, "we had better begin again. Monsieur Dorinet, pray read with the help of a candle this time!" And, with an angry toss of her head, Mdlle.
Bad weather, Monsieur Philomène, for the voice!" Then, to the two girls: "Mesdemoiselles Achille Dorinet prostrates himself at the feet of youth, beauty, and talent! Mademoiselle Honoria, I salute in you the future Empress of the tragic stage.
"The illustrious Vestris, Monsieur," said the little old gentleman, "was, next to Louis the Fourteenth, the greatest of Frenchmen. I am proud to own myself his disciple, as well as his contemporary." "Why next to Louis the Fourteenth, Monsieur Dorinet?" I asked, keeping my countenance with difficulty. "Why not next to Napoleon the First, who was a still greater conqueror?"
There was no stage, for instance; and there were no footlights; but M. Dorinet met these objections by proposing to range all the seats at one end of the room, and to divide the stage off by a row of lighted candles. "But it is so difficult to render a dramatic scene without an interlocutor!" said the young lady. "What is it you require, ma chère demoiselle?" asked Madame Marotte.
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