And there I
would stay with my uncle until his man came, with a message from the
coachman, to ask him at what time he would like the carriage. My uncle
would then be lost in meditation, while his astonished servant stood
there, not daring to disturb him by the least movement, wondering and
waiting for his answer, which never varied. For in the end, after a
supreme crisis of hesitation, my uncle would utter, infallibly, the words:
"A quarter past two," which the servant would echo with amazement, but
without disputing them: "A quarter past two! Very good, sir... I will go
and tell him...."
At this date I was a lover of the theatre: a Platonic lover, of necessity,
since my parents had not yet allowed me to enter one, and so incorrect was
the picture I drew for myself of the pleasures to be enjoyed there that I
almost believed that each of the spectators looked, as into a stereoscope,
upon a stage and scenery which existed for himself alone, though closely
resembling the thousand other spectacles presented to the rest of the
audience individually.
Every morning I would hasten to the Moriss column to see what new plays it
announced.
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