Voces Populi — At a Parisian Cafe Chantant
At a Parisian Cafe Chantant.
SCENE--_An open air restaurant in the Champs-Elysees; the seats in the enclosure are rapidly filling; the diners in the gallery at the back have passed the salad stage, and are now free to take a more or less torpid interest in the Entertainment below.
_ _Enter_ TWO BRITONS, _who make their way to a couple of vacant chairs close to the orchestra_.
FIRST BRITON.
_Entree libre_, you see; nothing to pay!
Cheaper than your precious Exhibition, eh?
[_Chuckles knowingly.
_ SECOND BRITON (_who would rather have stayed at the Exhibition but doesn't like to say so_).
Don't quite see how they expect the thing to pay if they don't charge anything, though.
FIRST B.
Oh, they make _their_ profit out of the dinners up in the gallery there.
SECOND B.
(_appreciating the justice of this arrangement, having dined with his companion elsewhere_).
Well, that's fair enough.
[_Feels an increased respect for the Entertainment.
_ FIRST B.
Must get their money back somehow, you know.
Capital seats for hearing, these.
Now, we'll just take a cup of coffee, and a quiet cigar, while we listen to the singing--you'll enjoy this, _I_ know!
[_With the air of a man who knows the whole thing by heart; the Waiter brings two tumblers of black coffee, for which he demands the sum of six francs; lively indignation of the_ TWO BRITONS, _who denounce the charge as a swindle, and take some time to recover sufficient equanimity to attend to what is going on on the Stage_.
[Illustration: FEMALE ARTISTE (SINGS REFRAIN).
] FEMALE ARTISTE (_sings refrain_)-- Pour notre Exposition, Il faut nous faire imposition!
&c. , &c. SECOND B.
(_who not being at home in the language, rather resents his companion's laughter_).
What's that she's saying?
FIRST B.
(_who laughed because he knew there was a joke about the Exhibition_).
Eh?
--oh!
I'll tell you afterwards.
[_Hopes his friend will have forgotten all about it by that time.
_ SECOND B.
(_pertinaciously, as the Singer kisses her hand, and rushes precipitately off stage_).
Well, what was all _that_ about?
FIRST B.
(_who, upon reflection, finds that he hasn't the faintest idea_).
Oh, nothing very much--more the _manner_, you know, than anything else--it's the _men_ who have all the really funny songs.
[_A Male Artiste appears, bowing and kicking up his left leg behind: the_ FIRST BRITON _bends forward with an anxious frown, determined to let nothing escape him this time.
Fortunately, as_ M. CHARLEMAGNE, _the Comic Singer, possesses a powerful voice, the_ FIRST BRITON _is able to follow most of the words, from which, although they reach his ear in a somewhat perverted form, he contrives to extract intense amusement.
This is how the Chanson reaches him_:-- Seul boulevard silent vous arrete: Quand monde a tout depart n'amas, [_He can't quite make out this last word.
_ Repondez vitement-- [_Something he doesn't catch.
_ Le fou l'eau sitot vous crie "un rat!"
[_Here he whispers to his friend that "That last line was rather neat."
_ _Refrain_ (_to which_ M. CHARLEMAGNE _dances a gavotte with his hat thrust into the small of his back_).
Il n'a pas depart Dinard.
[_This makes the_ FIRST BRITON--_who once spent a week at Dinard--laugh immoderately_.
Ne Pa, ne Ma!
(_bis_) C'etait pas tant, mais sais comme ca-- Il n'a pas depart Dinard, Il non a pas certain-y-mal la!
FIRST BRITON (_to Second Ditto_).
_Very_ funny, isn't he?
SECOND B.
(_who--less fortunate than his friend--has not caught a single word_).
Um--can't say I see much in it myself.
FIRST B.
(_compassionately_).
Can't you?
Oh, you'll get into the way of it presently.
SECOND B.
But what's the joke of all that about "Pa"?
FIRST B.
(_who has been honestly under the impression that he did see a point somewhere_).
Why, he says he's an orphan--hasn't any Pa nor Ma.
SECOND B.
(_captiously_).
Well, there's nothing so very funny in _that_!
FIRST B.
(_giving up the point on consideration, as_ M. CHARLEMAGNE
_skips off_).
Oh, it's all nonsense, of course; these fellows only come on to fill up the time till Polusse sings (_feels rather proud of having caught the right pronunciation_).
Polusse is the only one really worth listening to.
SECOND B.
(_watching two Niggers in a Knockabout Entertainment_).
I can follow _these_ chaps better.
[_Complacently.
_ _One of the Niggers_ [_to the other_].
Ha, George Washington, Sar.
I'll warm you fur dat ar conduck!
FIRST B.
(_in a superior manner_).
Oh, yes; you soon get into the accent.
[_Later_--M. CHARLEMAGNE _has re-appeared, and sung a song about changing his apartments, with spoken passages of a pronouncedly Parisian character_.
FIRST B.
(_who little suspects what he has been roaring with laughter at_).
That fellow really _is_ amusing.
I must take Nellie to hear him some night before we go back.
SECOND B.
(_dubiously_).
But aren't some of the songs--for a girl of her age--eh?
FIRST B.
My dear fellow, not a bit!
I give you my word I haven't heard a single line yet that was in the least offensive--not a single line!
_Any_body might go!
Look here--it's Polusse next; now you listen--_he'll_ make you laugh!
[_The great_ M. PAULUS _appears and sings several Chansons in a confidentially lugubrious tone, and with his forefingers thrust into his waistcoat pockets.
Curiously enough, our_ FIRST BRITON _is less successful in following_ M. PAULUS _than he was with the Artistes who preceded him--but this is entirely owing to the big drum and cymbals, which will keep coming in and putting him out--something in this manner_:-- M. PAULUS.
Et quand j'rentr', ce n'est pour rien-- Ma belle me dit: "Mon pauv' bonhomme, Tu n'a pas l'air de"--(_The cymbals_: brim-brin-brien!
) Ell' m' flanqu' des giffl's--(_The drum_: pom-pom-pom-pom!
) _Refrain_ (_which both Britons understood_).
"Sur le bi--sur le bo; sur le bo, de bi, de bo.
Sur le bo--sur le bi; sur le bi, de bo, de bi!"
&c. , &c. , &c. FIRST BRITON (_after twenty minutes of this sort of thing_).
That's the end, I suppose.
They've let down the curtain.
_Capital_, wasn't he?
I
could listen to him all night!
SECOND B.
(_as they pass out_).
So could I--delightful!
Don't know when I've enjoyed anything so much.
The other people don't seem to be moving, though.
(_Consults programme.
_) There's another Part after this; Paulus is singing again.
I suppose you'll stay?
FIRST B.
Well--it's rather late, isn't it?
SECOND B.
(_much relieved_).
Yes.
Not worth while going back now (_with a yawn_).
We must come here again.
FIRST B.
(_making a mental resolution to return no more_).
Oh, we must;
nothing like it on our side of the Channel, y' know.
SECOND B.
(_with secret gratitude_).
No, we can't do it.
(_Walk back to their hotel in a state of great mental exhaustion, and finish the evening with a bock on the Boulevards.
_)
