t their compliments and praises on him;
they wanted to carry him in triumph through the streets. Not relishing
the idea of such an ovation, Lemaitre jumped through a window and took
to flight.

It was not until he had passed the age of fifty that Lemaitre began in
the least to modify the excesses of his career, either on or off the
stage. He still indulged in bacchanalian orgies; he still broke out at
times into those violations of the stage proprieties which are so
startling to any audience, but which are to a French audience something
bordering on the incredible and awful. He was already an old man when he
was playing one evening at Amiens, on a provincial tour, in
_Tragaldabas_, a play written for him by M. Vacquerie, who shared Victor
Hugo's exile at Jersey. At a certain point in the piece the actor is
supposed to drink champagne. Now, dramatic managers are obliged to be
economical about such things as food and drink, and generally replace
the sparkling vintage by another liquid quite as gaseous, but less
agreeable to the palate. Lemaitre put the glass to his lips, made a
horrible grimace, spit out the mouthful, and to the consternation of the
audience cried out, "Where is the manager of this theatre? Send me the
manager instantly!" Great excitement behind the scenes: the manager
arrives. "Approach," says the actor to him gravely, and he walks upon
the stage in full view of the audience. "What is the meaning of this bad
joke, Mr. Manager? Do you think me capable of being your accomplice in
the wickedness of deceiving the public!" "Deceive the public! I!"
stammers the manager.--"Yes, sir, you:" then addressing the pit,
"Gentlemen, you think I am drinking champagne. No, it is seltzer-water."
At this there was a roar of laughter, and the manager, deeming it wise
to humor the joke, promised to go and get real champagne. During the
time he was gone--when necessarily the action of the piece was brought
to a standstill--Lemaitre entertained his audience with a dissertation
on seltzer-water and the consciencelessness of managers.

With regard to similar stories related of the elder Booth, it is often
said now-a-days that his audiences were not made up of the decorous
class which attends theatres in _our_ times, and that managers of the
present day would not for a moment tolerate such insolent violations of
theatrical discipline. This may be possible as regards Booth, but so far
as it relates to Lemaitre it affords no expla