There was Miss Belvawney -- who seldom aspired to speaking parts, and usually went on as a page in white silk hose, to stand with one leg bent, and contemplate the audience, or to go in and out after Mr Crummles in stately tragedy -- twisting up the ringlets of the beautiful Miss Bravassa, who had once had her likeness taken `in character' by an engraver's apprentice, whereof impressions were hung up for sale in the pastry-cook's window, and the greengrocer's, and at the circulating library, and the box-office, whenever the announce bills came out for her annual night. There was Mrs Lenville, in a very limp bonnet and veil, decidedly in that way in which she would wish to be if she truly loved Mr Lenville; there was Miss Gazingi, within an imitation ermine boa tied in a loose knot round her neck, flogging Mr Crummles, junior, with both ends, in fun. Lastly, there was Mrs Grudden in a brown cloth pelisse and a beaver bonnet, who assisted Mrs Crummles in her domestic affairs, and took money at the doors, and dressed the ladies, and swept the house, and held the prompt book when everybody else was on for the last scene, and acted any kind of part on any emergency without ever learning it, and was put down in the bills under my name or names whatever, that occurred to Mr Crummles as looking well in print.
Mr Folair having obligingly confided these particulars to Nicholas, left him to mingle with his fellows; the work of personal introduction was completed by Mr Vincent Crummles, who publicly heralded the new actor as a prodigy of genius and learning.
`I beg your pardon,' said Miss Snevellicci, sidling towards Nicholas, `but did you ever play at Canterbury?'
`I never did,' replied Nicholas.
`I recollect meeting a gentleman at Canterbury,' said Miss Snevellicci, `only for a few moments, for I was leaving the company as he joined it, so like you that I felt almost certain it was the same.'
`I see you now for the first time,' rejoined Nicholas with all due gallantry.
`I am sure I never saw you before; I couldn't have forgotten it.'
`Oh, I'm sure -- it's very flattering of you to say so,' retorted Miss Snevellicci with a graceful bend. `Now I look at you again, I see that the gentleman at Canterbury hadn't the same eyes as you -- you'll think me very foolish for taking notice of such things, won't you?'
`Not at all,' said Nicholas. `How can I feel otherwise than flattered by your notice in any way?'
`Oh! you men are such vain creatures!' cried Miss Snevellicci. Whereupon, she became charmingly confused, and, pulling out her pocket-handkerchief from a faded pink silk reticule with a gilt clasp, called to Miss Ledrook --`Led, my dear,' said Miss Snevellicci.
`Well, what is the matter?' said Miss Ledrook.
`It's not the same.'
`Not the same what?'
`Canterbury -- you know what I mean. Come here! I want to speak to you.'
But Miss Ledrook wouldn't come to Miss Snevellicci, so Miss Snevellicci was obliged to go to Miss Ledrook, which she did, in a skipping manner that was quite fascinating; and Miss Ledrook evidently joked Miss Snevellicci about being struck with Nicholas; for, after some playful whispering, Miss Snevellicci hit Miss Ledrook very hard on the backs of her hands, and retired up, in a state of pleasing confusion.
`Ladies and gentlemen,' said Mr Vincent Crummles, who had been writing on a piece of paper, `we'll call the Mortal Struggle tomorrow at ten; everybody for the procession. Intrigue, and Ways and Means, you're all up in, so we shall only want one rehearsal. Everybody at ten, if you please.'
`Everybody at ten,' repeated Mrs Grudden, looking about her.
`On Monday morning we shall read a new piece,' said Mr Crummles; `the name's not known yet, but everybody will have a good part. Mr Johnson will take care of that.'
`Hallo!' said Nicholas, starting. `I--'
`On Monday morning,' repeated Mr Crummles, raising his voice, to drown the unfortunate Mr Johnson's remonstrance; `that'll do, ladies and gentlemen.'
The ladies and gentlemen required no second notice to quit; and, in a few minutes, the theatre was deserted, save by the Crummles family, Nicholas, and Smike.
`Upon my word,' said Nicholas, taking the manager aside, `I don't think I can be ready by Monday.'
`Pooh, pooh,' replied Mr Crummles.
`But really I can't,' returned Nicholas; `my invention is not accustomed to these demands, or possibly I might produce--'
`Invention! what the devil's that got to do with it!' cried the manager hastily.
`Everything, my dear sir.'
`Nothing, my dear sir,' retorted the manager, with evident impatience.
`Do you understand French?'
`Perfectly well.'
`Very good,' said the manager, opening the table drawer, and giving a roll of paper from it to Nicholas. `There! Just turn that into English, and put your name on the title-page. Damn me,' said Mr Crummles, angrily, `if I haven't often said that I wouldn't have a man or woman in my company that wasn't master of the language, so that they might learn it from the original, and play it in English, and save all this trouble and expense.'
Nicholas smiled and pocketed the play.
`What are you going to do about your lodgings?' said Mr Crummles.
Nicholas could not help thinking that, for the first week, it would be an uncommon convenience to have a turn-up bedstead in the pit, but he merely remarked that he had not turned his thoughts that way.
`Come home with me then,' said Mr Crummles, `and my boys shall go with you after dinner, and show you the most likely place.'
