Michael
drifted back to his favourite _cafe_, while Emile betook himself to the
Hippodrome to wage war with that amiable functionary, the Manager. The
strife was both noisy and prolonged, and resulted in only a partial
victory for Emile. With many picturesque oaths the Manager accused
himself of folly unspeakable in not dismissing Arithelli at once.
She had a contract? Yes! But in it there was no allowance made for
incompetence and non-appearance. It only stipulated that she should be
paid for doing her work. She had not done it, and moreover she had
refused to practise. That he should be expected to continue to pay her
a salary even of the smallest description while she lay in bed was a
monstrous impertinence.
Would he not have the trouble and expense of getting another artiste to
fill her place? There must be an _equestrienne_ in the programme. If
she found herself taken back again to finish her time after this
illness or whatever it was, then she should be more than grateful, but
as for paying salaries to _employes_ who did not work, why, did people
consider him an imbecile?
Emile shrugged and sneered at intervals throughout this tirade.
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