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Updated: June 16, 2025
It was a veritable town in miniature, with a pattern of checker-board streets Columbine street, Polichinelle street, Avenue des Parades, Place des Parades, Street of the Chanson, and the like. There were more than five hundred booths, all numbered shops and restaurants. There were the Salon Curtius, the Ménagerie Bidel, the Bal Mabille, the Café Bataclan, the American Tavern.
He brought nothing in writing, as what he had to communicate was considered too serious to be committed to paper. Yet both my father and myself could have imparted virtually the same information, which was but a secret de Polichinelle. It concerned the date when the fall of Paris would become inevitable. Authentic information to that effect was available in Paris before we quitted it in November.
But it was not a result that he intended or even foresaw. So much was this the case that in the interval after the second act, he sought the dressing-room shared by Polichinelle and Rhodomont. Polichinelle was in the act of changing. "I shouldn't trouble to change," he said. "The piece isn't likely to go beyond my opening scene of the next act with Leandre." "What do you mean?" "You'll see."
When you have so many, you get confused. What a pretty frock you have. Oh! I 've got far prettier ones still at home. Do you go to the theatre? Yes, every evening. I was at the Opera yesterday; but Polichinelle wasn't playing, because the wolf had eaten him. I go to dances every day, my dear. It is so amusing.
Thence to the Fayre, and saw "Polichinelle," and so home, and after a little supper to bed. This night lay the first night in Deb.'s chamber, which is now hung with that that hung our great chamber, and is now a very handsome room. This day Mrs. September 1st. So to the Fair, and there saw several sights; among others, the mare that tells money,
With a purpose no less vindictive was he being sought by M. Binet, now unhappily recovered from his wound to face completest ruin. His troupe had deserted him during his illness, and reconstituted under the direction of Polichinelle it was now striving with tolerable success to continue upon the lines which Andre-Louis had laid down.
For in the wake of Columbine went Leandre, in the wake of Leandre, Polichinelle and then all the rest together, until Binet found himself sitting alone at the head of an empty table in an empty room a badly shaken man whose rage could afford him no support against the dread by which he was suddenly invaded.
At first he was annoyed; then as he continued in vain to bawl the fellow's name, he began to grow uneasy; lastly, when Polichinelle, who was with them, discovered Cordemais' crutch standing discarded behind the door, M. Binet became alarmed. A dreadful suspicion entered his mind. He grew visibly pale under his paint. "But this evening he couldn't walk without the crutch!" he exclaimed.
Gradually the company came to realize that just as surely as a scene was brooding, just so surely would there be no scene as long as they remained. It was Polichinelle, at last, who gave the signal by rising and withdrawing, and within two minutes none remained in the room but M. Binet, his daughter, and Andre-Louis.
At long length came a rumble of wheels below and a rattle of halting hooves. Then voices, the high, trilling laugh of Climene floating upwards. Andre-Louis went on eating unconcernedly. "What an actor!" said Harlequin under his breath to Polichinelle, and Polichinelle nodded gloomily.
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