"Well," said Doane, in great relish, for he did love to tell a story, "when she played at Seattle, she expressed a desire to have a vivid, real live hunt. An old trapper near by had some tame bears, and the newspaper boys put up a job on the fair French woman. She dressed herself up in a male attire, went out into the woods, a perfect nimrod. She was hauled over logs and creeks, and finally, in a moment of ecstacy, she was permitted to kill a bear. She was the happiest woman, for a day, upon whom the sun ever shone."
They had a hearty laugh.
"I saw in your paper the other day, that some fool out West had attempted to dramatize Victor Hugo's 'Les Miserables.'"
"If you saw it in my paper," said Doane, "be careful. I missed a train a few days ago by depending on the accuracy of my own journal."
"But what do you think of the idea?" queried Connors.
"In these days," said Wayland, "when managers are crazy for a new idea, it seems to me that a clever stage story of Jean Valjean would make a certain hit."
"You might as well try to dramatize the clouds, the great rugged mountain peaks," said Doane, scornfully, "as anything Victor Hugo wrote. No man under forty can grasp the real philosophy of Hugo. How, then, can the unintelligent masses hope to comprehend him? Connors, you are a great politician, but you are not overburdened with dramatic knowledge."
"I wrote a play once," said Connors.
"Was it produced?" asked Wayland.
"Yes, for three consecutive nights."
