frock-coat, with a collar reaching above his ears, and riding-breeches
of chamois leather. He had even gone so far as to make up his face for
the part, the clean-shaven soldierly face of the general of the Empire,
ornamented with the "hare's-foot" whiskers which were handed down by the
victors of Austerlitz to their sons, the bourgeois of July. Standing
erect, his right elbow resting in his left hand, his brow supported by
his right hand, his deep voice and his tight-fitting breeches expressed
his pride.

"Alone, and without funds, from the depths of a prison, to attack this
colossus, who commands a million soldiers, and who causes all the
peoples and kings of Europe to tremble. Well, this colossus shall fall
crashing to the ground."

From the back of the stage old Maury, who was playing the conspirator
Jacquemont, delivered his reply:

"He may crush us in his downfall."

Suddenly cries at once plaintive and angry arose from the orchestra.

The author was exploding. He was a man of seventy, brimming over with
youth.

"What do I see there at the back of the stage? It's not an actor, it's a
fire-place. We shall have to send for the bricklayers, the
marble-workers, to move it. Maury, do get a move on, confound you!"

Maury shifted his position.