about it coolly. I was on the stage,

[Footnote: It was the custom for young men of fashion to seat themselves
upon the stage (see Vol. I.. Prefatory Memoir, page 26, note 7). They
often crowded it to such an extent, that it was difficult for the actors
to move. This custom was abolished only in 1759, when the Count de
Lauraguais paid the comedians a considerable sum of money, on the
condition of not allowing any stranger upon the stage.]

in a mood to listen to the piece which I had heard praised by so many.
The actors began; everyone kept silence; when with a good deal of noise
and in a ridiculous manner, a man with large rolls entered abruptly,
crying out "Hulloa, there, a seat directly!" and, disturbing the
audience with his uproar, interrupted the play in its finest passage.
Heavens! will Frenchmen, altho' so often corrected, never behave
themselves like men of common-sense? Must we, in a public theatre, show
ourselves with our worst faults, and so confirm, by our foolish
outbursts what our neighbours everywhere say of us? Thus I spoke; and
whilst I was shrugging my shoulders, the actors attempted to continue
their parts. But the man made a fresh disturbance in seating himself,
and again crossing the stage with long strides, although he might have
been quite comfortable at the wings, he planted his chair full in front,
and, defying the audience by his broad back, hid the actors from
three-fourths of the pit. A murmur arose, at which anyone else would
have felt ashamed; but he, firm and resolute, took no notice of it, and
would have remained just as he had placed himself, if, to my misfortune,
he had not cast his eyes on me. "Ah, Marquis!" he said, taking a seat
near me, "how dost thou do? Let me embrace thee." Immediately my face
was covered with blushes that people should see I was acquainted with
such a giddy fellow. I was but slightly known to him for all that: but