"Not exactly, but you haven't any waist."
"I haven't any waist! I haven't any waist! Upon my word, I guess that it's your eyes that are diseased; you see crooked."
"What! why do you say that my eyes are diseased? Is it because they are red? Don't joke, Lolotte, are my eyes swollen?"
"Ah! so I haven't any waist! All men don't think as you do, monsieur, and in spite of my stoutness, if I chose to listen to all the pleasant things that are said to me----"
"Madame! you forget that your daughter is here.--Eolinde, come and look at my eyes; it seems to me that they sting."
Mademoiselle Eolinde was looking over a volume of plays; instead of answering her father, she cried:
"We must play _La Forêt Périlleuse_, papa, and I will be the fair Ca--Ca--Camille!"
"Yes, my child, yes, we have already decided to give that play," said Madame Glumeau; "and we are going to have here to-day all the people who are to take part in the first piece to be given at our country house, in order to distribute the rôles. But the other piece is what hasn't yet been chosen. We must have a very lively vaudeville."
"Oh, mamma! let's give _Estelle, ou Le Père et La Fille!_"
"I should like to know if you call that a lively vaudeville! My dear girl, when we have theatricals in our house, for our amusement, we mustn't undertake to make people weep, for the only result is to make them laugh. As a general rule, you are all very bad, but that is what is wanted; the worse actors you are, the more laughter you cause; if you acted well, it would be very dull, I fancy."
"Oh, mamma! how you ta--ta--talk, just because you--you--do--do--don't act yourself!"
"If I did, I should try to be funny, that's all; but I should know my lines, I tell you that; and you never know yours."
During this conversation between the mother and the daughter, Monsieur Glumeau had risen, had stationed himself in front of a mirror, and was looking at his eyes with a persistent scrutiny which finally ended in making his sight blurred; whereupon he paced the salon, muttering:
"I must get some eye salve; I ought to have a recipe somewhere."
"But there's nothing the matter with your eyes, monsieur!" cried Madame Glumeau impatiently; "you apparently propose to make yourself blind now! Why don't you take the elixir of long life, and have done with it?"