Céline rushed to the door, locked it, and withdrew the key.
"It is nothing, Monsieur, I assure you. You must not enter the garden. The fact is, that I am preparing a little surprise for you all, and if you go into the garden at this moment, you will destroy everything. Pray permit me to continue."
So saying, she gave the key of the door to the physician to the theatre, who happened to be among the guests, enjoining him, at the same time, not to part with it on any consideration.
She attempted to resume her improvisation, but she found it difficult to take up the thread at the point at which it had been broken. It was, in truth, a struggle between Comedy and Tragedy, and Tragedy had the best of it, for a loud exclamation, as from a man in acute pain, broke upon her ear, and her resolution gave way at once.
"Gentlemen, I cannot go on. It is useless to attempt to disguise my agitation from you. You must see that I am terribly overwrought. Gentlemen, for the love of Heaven, interfere to save my husband. He is in that garden, engaged in a duel with the Duc de Richelieu! The shriek that we all heard was his—he is dying—perhaps dead! For God's sake interfere to save him, if it be not too late!"
And so saying, she endeavoured, but vainly, to break open the door which she had so recently locked.
At first the guests were alarmed, till they recollected that the exhibition of Comedy was to be succeeded by
