"Monsieur Bordenave, Monsieur Bordenave!" said the stage manager, coming
up in a terrible flutter.
Bordenave made his excuses to the prince and followed him. When he
recognized Fauchery and Mignon in the men on the floor he gave vent to
an expression of annoyance. They had chosen a nice time, certainly, with
His Highness on the other side of the scenery and all that houseful of
people who might have overheard the row! To make matters worse, Rose
Mignon arrived out of breath at the very moment she was due on the
stage. Vulcan, indeed, was giving her the cue, but Rose stood rooted to
the ground, marveling at sight of her husband and her lover as they lay
wallowing at her feet, strangling one another, kicking, tearing their
hair out and whitening their coats with dust. They barred the way. A
sceneshifter had even stopped Fauchery's hat just when the devilish
thing was going to bound onto the stage in the middle of the struggle.
Meanwhile Vulcan, who had been gagging away to amuse the audience, gave
Rose her cue a second time. But she stood motionless, still gazing at
the two men.
"Oh, don't look at THEM!" Bordenave furiously whispered to her. "Go on
the stage; go on, do! It's no business of yours! Why, you're missing
your cue!"
And with a push from the manager, Rose stepped over the prostrate bodies
and found herself in the flare of the footlights and in the presence of
the audience.
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