"Come, then, we don't want so much jaw about it," said Richelot, lifting a table into one corner of the room. "You Jean Louis, and you Lapierre stand there; Lenoir, Dubuisson, and Etienne, (the shipwright) go to the other end: they shall be the friends, and I will seat myself on the bed and be the people."
"What people?" inquired Etienne, "Why the audience if you like. The shipwright is a booby."
"I am a spectator too."
"No, you stupid ass, I am. You are a friend, take your place, the play is going to begin."
We imagine ourselves in a public-house at la Courtille; each talks. I get up, and, under a pretext of asking for some tobacco, enter into conversation with the friends at the other table, I speak a little slang, they find me a downy cove, and give me a knowing look, which I return, and it is found we are all lads of the same profession. They follow the customary usages of society,—a glass more than necessary. I complain of being without a job of work. They complain, and we all complain together. We commence to be very full of mutual compassion and sympathy; I curse the beaks, they curse them too; I swear at the big wigs of my quarter who persecute me; my friends look at each other, consult each other's eyes, and deliberate upon the opportunity offered by, or the disadvantages of, my acquaintance. They take my hand, they press it, I consent; it is agreed that they may rely on me. Then comes the proposal—the character I play is that which, with but few variations, I always have played—I only alter a little, by putting the stolen goods into the pockets of my friends. Then was heard the unanimous applause, accompanied by shouts of laughter. "Well done, well done," cried the actors and the witness of this scene.
"Well done, certainly," said Richelot, "but see the sun is setting and it is time to tramp; the play can finish in the drag, or elsewhere, when we have done
