The chorus of cuckolds was again ushered in
by Iris and besought the master of the gods not to give effect to its
petition, for since women had lived at home, domestic life was becoming
impossible for the men: the latter preferred being deceived and happy.
That was the moral of the play. Then Venus was set at liberty, and
Vulcan obtained a partial divorce from her. Mars was reconciled with
Diana, and Jove, for the sake of domestic peace, packed his little
laundress off into a constellation. And finally they extricated Love
from his black hole, where instead of conjugating the verb AMO he
had been busy in the manufacture of "dollies." The curtain fell on
an apotheosis, wherein the cuckolds' chorus knelt and sang a hymn of
gratitude to Venus, who stood there with smiling lips, her stature
enhanced by her sovereign nudity.
The audience, already on their feet, were making for the exits. The
authors were mentioned, and amid a thunder of applause there were two
calls before the curtain. The shout of "Nana! Nana!" rang wildly forth.
Then no sooner was the house empty than it grew dark: the footlights
went out; the chandelier was turned down; long strips of gray canvas
slipped from the stage boxes and swathed the gilt ornamentation of
the galleries, and the house, lately so full of heat and noise, lapsed
suddenly into a heavy sleep, while a musty, dusty odor began to pervade
it.
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