and torch-bearers.]

STRAFOREL. I see one star already. The day is dying [He places
his men about the stage.] Stay there--you there--and you there.
The hour is near. You will see, as the clock strikes eight, a
figure in white enter on this side. Then I whistle--[He looks at
the sky again.] The moon? Splendid! Every effect is perfect
to-night. [Examining the costumes of his band] The capes and
mantels are excellent. Look a little more dangerous, over there!
Now, ready? [A sedan-chair is brought in.] The chair over there
in the shade. [Seeing the negroes who carry the chair] The
negroes are good! [Speaking at a distance] Torches, there, you
understand you are not to come until you receive the signal? [The
faint reflection of the torches is seen at the back of the stage,
through the underbrush. Enter the musicians.] Musicians? There--
at the back. Now, a little distinction and life! Vary your poses
from time to time. Stand straight, mandolin! Sit down, alto!
There. [Severely to a swordsman] You, first mask, don't look so
harmless--I want a villainous slouch! Good! Now, instruments,
play softly--tune up! Good--tra la la! [He puts on his mask.]

[PERCINET enters slowly from the other side of the stage. As he
speaks the following lines, the stage becomes darker, until at the
end, it is night.]

PERCINET. My father is calmer now. The day is dying, and the
intoxicating odor of the elders is wafted to me; the flowers close
their petals in the gray of the evening--

STRAFOREL. [Aside to the violins] Music!