"Yes, a Parisian from Paris."
"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"
"Indeed," replied Passepartout, vexed at seeing his nationality call forth this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is true, but not better than the Americans."
"Just so. Well, if I do not take you as a servant I can take you as a clown. You understand, my good fellow? In France, they exhibit foreign clowns, and abroad, French clowns."
"Ah!"
"You are strong, are you not?"
"Particularly when I have been at the table."
"And you know how to sing?"
"Yes," replied Passepartout, who had formerly taken part in street concerts.
"But do you know how to sing on your head, with a top spinning on the sole of your left foot, and a saber balanced on the sole of your right?"
"Parbleu!" replied Passepartout, who recalled the first exercises of his youth.
"Then, you see, all is right!" replied the Honorable Batulcar.
The engagement was concluded there and then.
At last Passepartout had found a position. He was engaged to do everything in the celebrated Japanese troupe. It was not very flattering, but within a week he would be on his way to San Francisco.
The performance, so noisily announced by the Honorable Batulcar, was to commence at three o'clock, and soon the formidable instruments of a Japanese orchestra, drums and tam-tams, sounded at the door. We understand very well that Passepartout could not have studied a part, but he was to give the support of his solid shoulders in the grand feat of the "human pyramid," executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou. This great attraction of the performance was to close the series.
Before three o'clock, the spectators had crowded the large building. Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women, and children, rushed upon the narrow benches, and into the boxes opposite the stage. The musicians had entered, and the full orchestra, with gongs, tam-
