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Updated: May 5, 2025
Mme. de Maufrigneuse for him was still an angel, untouched by any taint of earth; an angel at the Varietes, where she sat out the half-obscene, vulgar farces, which made her laugh; an angel through the cross-fire of highly-flavored jests and scandalous anecdotes, which enlivened a stolen frolic; a languishing angel in the latticed box at the Vaudeville; an angel while she criticised the postures of opera dancers with the experience of an elderly habitue of le coin de la reine; an angel at the Porte Saint-Martin, at the little boulevard theatres, at the masked balls, which she enjoyed like any schoolboy.
"I am engaged at the Varietes," she said, and then she talked away at such a rate that I was bewildered. Madame Petit did not enter into all this, and tried in vain to separate us. She had replied by a nod and an indifferent "Thanks" to Leontine's inquiries about her daughter's health.
Anguish of the accused awaiting the decision of his judges life, death, reprieve, or pardon! With his long, white hand Mora continued to stroke his mustache with a favourite gesture, to talk with Monpavon of the club, of the foyer of the Varietes, asking news of the Chamber, how matters stood with regard to the Nabob's election all this coldly, without the least affectation.
Am I to have no theatres at all?" asked the second stranger. "Oh well, Hector can let you have the Varietes, and Lucien can spare you the Porte Saint-Martin. Let him have the Porte Saint-Martin, Lucien, he is wild about Fanny Beaupre; and you can take the Cirque-Olympique in exchange. I shall have Bobino and the Funambules and Madame Saqui. Now, what have we for to-morrow?" "Nothing." "Nothing?"
"Oh, my poor little one, my poor little one!" she gasped, bursting into a final fit of sobbing. The Petite Duchesse was being rehearsed at the Varietes. The first act had just been carefully gone through, and the second was about to begin.
On January 1st, 1846, he wrote to Madame Hanska, "I dined, as I told you in my last letter, with Nestor Roqueplan, the director of the Theatre des Varietes, the last Wednesday of December, and the last day of the month with the illustrious Delphine. We laughed as much as I can laugh without you, and far from you.
"I made the alterations one afternoon, and wrote to Dumas, and what do you think, by return of post I had a letter from him saying he could not consent to the production of a one-act piece, signed by him, at the Variétés, because his son was then giving a five-act piece at the Gymnase." Then came a string of indecent witticisms by Suzanne Lagier and Dejazet.
I had spent the day in the country with one of my friends, Gaston R . We returned to Paris in the evening, and not knowing what to do we went to the Varietes. We went out during one of the entr'actes, and a tall woman passed us in the corridor, to whom my friend bowed. "Whom are you bowing to?" I asked. "Marguerite Gautier," he said.
I think we could not be far wrong in guessing some very old flame of Lord Pharanx's of Théâtre des Variétés type, whom he has supported for years, and from whom, hearing some story to her discredit, he threatens to withdraw his supplies.
Here is what I have to relate: Two days ago I went to the Theâtre des Variétés to see for the second time the play which is just now the rage.
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