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For
instance
,
a
fireman
is
a
brave
fellow
!
He
fears
nothing
,
least
of
all
fire
!
Well
,
the
fireman
in
question
,
who
had
gone
to
make
a
round
of
inspection
in
the
cellars
and
who
,
it
seems
,
had
ventured
a
little
farther
than
usual
,
suddenly
reappeared
on
the
stage
,
pale
,
scared
,
trembling
,
with
his
eyes
starting
out
of
his
head
,
and
practically
fainted
in
the
arms
of
the
proud
mother
of
little
Jammes
.
And
why
?
Because
he
had
seen
coming
toward
him
,
AT
THE
LEVEL
OF
HIS
HEAD
,
BUT
WITHOUT
A
BODY
ATTACHED
TO
IT
,
A
HEAD
OF
FIRE
!
And
,
as
I
said
,
a
fireman
is
not
afraid
of
fire
.
The
fireman
’
s
name
was
Pampin
.
The
corps
de
ballet
was
flung
into
consternation
.
At
first
sight
,
this
fiery
head
in
no
way
corresponded
with
Joseph
Buquet
’
s
description
of
the
ghost
.
But
the
young
ladies
soon
persuaded
themselves
that
the
ghost
had
several
heads
,
which
he
changed
about
as
he
pleased
.
And
,
of
course
,
they
at
once
imagined
that
they
were
in
the
greatest
danger
.
Once
a
fireman
did
not
hesitate
to
faint
,
leaders
and
front
-
row
and
back
-
row
girls
alike
had
plenty
of
excuses
for
the
fright
that
made
them
quicken
their
pace
when
passing
some
dark
corner
or
ill
-
lighted
corridor
.
Sorelli
herself
,
on
the
day
after
the
adventure
of
the
fireman
,
placed
a
horseshoe
on
the
table
in
front
of
the
stage
-
door
-
keeper
’
s
box
,
which
every
one
who
entered
the
Opera
otherwise
than
as
a
spectator
must
touch
before
setting
foot
on
the
first
tread
of
the
staircase
.
This
horse
-
shoe
was
not
invented
by
me
—
any
more
than
any
other
part
of
this
story
,
alas
!
—
and
may
still
be
seen
on
the
table
in
the
passage
outside
the
stage
-
door
-
keeper
’
s
box
,
when
you
enter
the
Opera
through
the
court
known
as
the
Cour
de
l
’
Administration
.
To
return
to
the
evening
in
question
.
"
It
’
s
the
ghost
!
"
little
Jammes
had
cried
.
An
agonizing
silence
now
reigned
in
the
dressing
-
room
.
Nothing
was
heard
but
the
hard
breathing
of
the
girls
.
At
last
,
Jammes
,
flinging
herself
upon
the
farthest
corner
of
the
wall
,
with
every
mark
of
real
terror
on
her
face
,
whispered
:
"
Listen
!
"
Everybody
seemed
to
hear
a
rustling
outside
the
door
.
There
was
no
sound
of
footsteps
.
It
was
like
light
silk
sliding
over
the
panel
.
Then
it
stopped
.
Sorelli
tried
to
show
more
pluck
than
the
others
.
She
went
up
to
the
door
and
,
in
a
quavering
voice
,
asked
:
