n the list of tragic aspirants comes
a gentleman of thirty-one, M. Aubert, who goes through a scene from
_Hamlet_ in a very tolerable manner. He was in the army, was doing well and
was rising in grade when, seized by the theatrical mania, he relinquished
his profession and turned his attention to the stage. Thus far, he has
proved, practically speaking, a failure: he has won no prizes, and no
manager will engage him. This is his last chance, as his age will prevent
him, by the rules of the Conservatoire, from taking part in any future
competition.

The tragedy concours ended, a recess of an hour is proclaimed, and there is
a rush to the refreshment-tables and a great consumption of sandwiches and
cakes, of coffee and water (known as "mazagran") and of _vin ordinaire_.
Under that vestibule pass and repass the literary luminaries of modern
France. Here is Henri de Bornier, the author of _La Fille de Roland_, a
quiet, earnest-looking gentleman, with clear luminous eyes and the smallest
hands imaginable. Here comes Francisque Sarcey, the greatest dramatic
critic of France and one of the most noted of her Republican journalists,
broad-shouldered, black-eyed and stalwart-looking. Yonder stand a group of
Academicians--Legouve, Doucet, Dumas--in earnest conversation with Edouard
Thierry, the librarian of the Arsenal. The handsome, delicate,
aristocratic-looking gentleman who joins the group is M. Perrin, the
director of the Comedie Francaise, the most accomplished and intelligent
theatrical manager in France. There is an elderly, reserved-looking
gentleman beside him who looks like a solemn _savant_ out on a holiday. It
takes more than one glance for us to recognize in him the most accomplished
light comedian of our day, that embodiment of grace, vivacity, sparkling
wit and unfading youth, who is known to the boards of the Comedie Francaise
by the name of Delaunay. There are other minor luminaries, too numerous to
mention.

We go up stairs and resume our seats, and the competition of comedy is
begun. Scene succeeds to scene and competitor to competitor: the day wears
on, and flitting clouds from time to time obscure the dome, bringing out
the glare of the footlights that have been burning all day in a singularly
effective manner. Of the nineteen competitors, the deepest impression is
made by M. Barral, who plays a scene from _L'Avare_ magnificently; by
Mademoiselle Carriere, who reveals herself as a sparkling and intelligent
s