rcassonne before, I didn't
know that such a thing existed in France, or, indeed, outside
Oberammergau and a few villages in the Tyrol. Miss Randolph questioned
me about it, but I could tell her nothing, and she exclaimed rather
shamefacedly, "Oh, _how_ I should love to go!"

"Would you let me take you there, just to look on for a few minutes,
miss?" I doubtfully asked.

"I should like it above anything," said she. "Only--we've already kept
those poor people waiting too long, I'm afraid."

"This needn't keep them very much longer," said I, "and it may be the
last chance you will ever have of seeing such a thing."

"Oh, well, I can't resist," she cried. "We'll go--and I'll take the
scolding afterwards."

We did go, following our leaders until we came to a good-sized booth
with a crowd round it. The admission was twopence each, but the best
seats cost a franc. We went in and found ourselves in a long, canvas
room, with sloping seats and a small stage at one end lighted by oil
lamps.

The place was dreadfully hot, and smelled strongly of humanity.
Presently a bell rang; there was solemn music on a tinkling piano and a
young actor, bare-faced and dressed in a white classical dress, took his
place near the stage, beginning to recite in a clear, sympathetic voice.
He was the choragus, explaining to us what was to happen in the play.
The curtain went up, to reveal a tableau of Adam and Eve in very
palpable flesh tights, with garlands of fig leaves festooned about their
bodies.

Adam, with an elaborate false beard, slept under a tree. Then to the
accompaniment of the choragus' explanation a mechanical snake appeared
in the branches with an apple in its mouth. An unseen person off the
stage made the snake twist and writhe. Eve put out her hand, took the
apple, and ate a bit. Adam waking, she pointed to the tree and to the
fruit, offering him a piece. He demurred in pantomime, but accepted and
swallowed what was left of the apple. Instantly there appeared at the
wing an angel with a long, flaxen wig, who threatened the guilty pair
with a tinsel sword. They cowered, and then shading their eyes with
their hands, were walking sadly away when the curtain fell. It was
tableau number one, showing the fall of man.

The audience on the whole received the exhibition with devotional
reverence, but a knot of young men openly tittered and jeered,
commenting satirically upon the deficiencies in the stage management.
Then, with more