that were called ~tableaux vivants~, with a few men to
complete the groups. This show was given at the Porte Saint
Martin and at the Cirque. I had the curiosity one night
to go and see the women behind the scenes. I went to the
Porte Saint Martin, where, I may add in parentheses, they
were going to revive "Lucrêce Borgia". Villemot, the stage
manager, who was of poor appearance but intelligent,
said: "I will take you into the gynecium."

A score of men were there--authors, actors, firemen,
lamp lighters, scene shifters--who came, went, worked or
looked on, and in the midst of them seven or eight women,
practically nude, walked about with an air of the most
naïve tranquillity. The pink tights that covered them
from the feet to the neck were so thin and transparent that
one could see not only the toes, the navel, and the breasts,
but also the veins and the colour of the least mark on the
skin on all parts of their bodies. Towards the abdomen,
however, the tights became thicker and only the form was
distinguishable. The men who assisted them were similarly
arranged. All these people were English.

At intervals of five minutes the curtain parted and
they executed a ~tableau~. For this they were posed
in immobile attitudes upon a large wooden disc which
revolved upon a pivot. It was worked by a child
of fourteen who reclined on a mattress beneath it. Men
and women were dressed up in chiffons of gauze or merino
that were very ugly at a distance and very ignoble ~de prês~.
They were pink statues. When the disc had revolved