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Updated: June 12, 2025
I forgot until the ladies were in their sedans that the scrap of writing in Francezka's hand lay on the table and would be seen by Gaston Cheverny and probably by Monsieur Voltaire. My trouble was all in vain, but I was glad I had thrown Jacques Haret through the door. The chairmen went off at a rapid pace, I following.
My one idea was to prevent a catastrophe before getting her into old Peter's hands, and I dared not make any disturbance on her account. "But, Monsieur," she said to Jacques Haret, "you must let Peter, my servant, come to me he followed me on foot all the distance from the garden." "I will! I will!" Jacques Haret ran out and fetched Peter, who was outside the door.
Fellows of Jacques Haret's kidney can no more keep away from Paris than cats can keep away from cream. So I watched for him, and one evening, soon after the carnival, as I was walking along the Rue St. Jacques, I came face to face with Jacques Haret. It was dusk, but the lamps which hung across the street had not yet been lighted.
You have great talents for this sort of thing, and if you had a rag of respectability, you would be capable of managing the Théâtre Français itself." Jacques Haret grinned, and went cut and thrust at Monsieur Voltaire. "I beg to differ with you, Monsieur," replied Jacques.
He had taken out his snuff-box and opened it to appear calm, and Jacques Haret, before answering, coolly helped himself to the snuff at which the crowd was lost in admiration. "Monsieur," answered Jacques Haret, "do you think if Mademoiselle Lecouvreur came sneaking to the manager of the Théâtre Français and asked to act without pay, for the love of the thing, she would be turned away?
We required a lantern, however, and Jacques Haret proposing a wine shop as a place likely to have a lantern for hire, we went in search of one and speedily found it. And we were also able to secure what I knew would please my young cock mightily one of those pieces of black cloth which old custom decrees shall be carried to throw over the corpse if either one of the combatants fall.
You know, Babache, besides my own indignation at his shameful breach of hospitality, I had Mademoiselle Capello's injuries to avenge. So I went up to Jacques Haret and said: 'Rascal, where is Lisa Embden? "'God knows, says he, 'but what is your interest in Lisa Embden, the niece of a servant, and little more than a servant herself? "'This much, I replied.
For my part, the impression I had got the afternoon in the gardens of the Hôtel Kirkpatrick, that Gaston Cheverny in some way was afraid of Jacques Haret, became a conviction. Francezka sat motionless. What thoughts must have passed through that quick, clear brain of hers! Monsieur Voltaire finished his reading, and the ladies, to show their appreciation, rose and bowed again to him.
A temporary theater was built in the garden on the site of the one where Francezka had made her first dramatic adventure with the baker's boy, under the management of Jacques Haret. Here were given the best comedies of the day, with Francezka as the star. Monsieur Voltaire was often in the cast, and some of his own masterpieces were given at this theater for the first time.
Jacques Haret was the very soul of entertainment. I have never known a man whose mind was always so much at ease as Jacques Haret's. The most virtuous person that ever lived might envy this rogue his cheerful acquiescence in fate.
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