Wont to travel over acres of canvas for a few shillings, and roods of
paper on bare speculation, Triplet knew he could make a thousand a year
at the above work without thinking.
He came therefore to the box-keeper with his eyes glittering.
"Mr. Vane?"
"Just gone out with a gentleman."
"I'll wait then."
Now Mr. Vane, we know, was in the green-room, and went home by the
stage-door. The last thing he thought of was poor Triplet; the rich do
not dream how they disappoint the poor. Triplet's castle fell as many a
predecessor had. When the lights were put out, he left the theater with a
bitter sigh.
"If this gentleman knew how many sweet children I have, and what a good,
patient, suffering wife, sure he would not have chosen me to make a fool
of!" said the poor fellow to himself.
In Bow Street, he turned, and looked back upon the theater. How gloomy
and grand it loomed!
"Ah!" thought he, "if I could but conquer you; and why not? All history
shows that nothing is unconquerable except perseverance. Hannibal
conquered the Alps, and I'll conquer you," cried Triplet, firmly. "Yes,
this visit is not lost; here I register a vow: I will force my way into
that mountain of masonry, or perish in the attempt."
Triplet's most unpremeditated thoughts and actions often savored
ridiculously of the sublime. Then and there, gazing with folded arms on
this fortress of Thespis, the polytechnic man organized his first
assault.
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