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The night appointed for the fete had arrived. A gorgeous hall had been
fitted up, under Trippetta's eye, with every kind of device which could
possibly give eclat to a masquerade. The whole court was in a fever of
expectation. As for costumes and characters, it might well be supposed
that everybody had come to a decision on such points. Many had made
up their minds (as to what roles they should assume) a week, or even a
month, in advance; and, in fact, there was not a particle of indecision
anywhere--except in the case of the king and his seven minsters. Why
they hesitated I never could tell, unless they did it by way of a joke.
More probably, they found it difficult, on account of being so fat, to
make up their minds. At all events, time flew; and, as a last resort
they sent for Trippetta and Hop-Frog.
When the two little friends obeyed the summons of the king they found
him sitting at his wine with the seven members of his cabinet council;
but the monarch appeared to be in a very ill humor. He knew that
Hop-Frog was not fond of wine, for it excited the poor cripple almost to
madness; and madness is no comfortable feeling. But the king loved his
practical jokes, and took pleasure in forcing Hop-Frog to drink and (as
the king called it) 'to be merry.'
"Come here, Hop-Frog," said he, as the jester and his friend entered the
room; "swallow this bumper to the health of your absent friends, [here
Hop-Frog sighed,] and then let us have the benefit of your invention.
We want characters--characters, man--something novel--out of the way. We
are wearied with this everlasting sameness. Come, drink! the wine will
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