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Updated: May 4, 2025
I find it odd that he should have omitted from this letter all mention of Mlle. Binet, and I am disposed to account it at least a partial insincerity that he should have assigned entirely to his self-imposed mission, and not at all to his lacerated feelings in the matter of Climene, the action which he had taken at the Feydau.
"I have given nothing," said Climene, indignantly. "Ah! Then the jewel is in the nature of a payment in advance." "My God, man, you're not decent!" M. Binet protested. "Decent?" Andre-Louis' smouldering eyes turned to discharge upon M. Binet such a fulmination of contempt that the old scoundrel shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Did you mention decency, Binet?
And then, at last, Andre-Louis set down knife and fork, washed his throat with a draught of Burgundy, and sat back in his chair to consider Climene. "I trust," said he, "that you had a pleasant ride, mademoiselle." "Most pleasant, monsieur." Impudently she strove to emulate his coolness, but did not completely succeed. "And not unprofitable, if I may judge that jewel at this distance.
"My father!" she exclaimed, turning distractedly from one to the other of those two. "He is coming! We are lost!" "You must fly, Climene!" said M. Leandre. "Too late!" she sobbed. "Too late! He is here." "Calm, mademoiselle, calm!" the subtle friend was urging her. "Keep calm and trust to me. I promise you that all shall be well." "Oh!" cried M. Leandre, limply.
Seen in the gorgeous setting of that coach with its escutcheoned panels, its portly coachman and its white-stockinged footman who swung instantly to earth as the vehicle stopped its dainty occupant seemed to Climene a princess out of a fairy-tale. And this princess leaned forward, with eyes aglow and cheeks aflush, stretching out a choicely gloved hand to Scaramouche.
Andre-Louis sat down apart, his mind in turmoil. Presently he found a mincing young gentleman addressing him, and made shift to answer as was expected. Climene having been thus sequestered, and Columbine being already thickly besieged by gallants, the lesser visitors had to content themselves with Madame and the male members of the troupe.
When at last the curtain fell for the last time, it was Scaramouche who shared with Climene the honours of the evening, his name that was coupled with hers in the calls that summoned them before the curtains. As they stepped back, and the curtains screened them again from the departing audience, M. Binet approached them, rubbing his fat hands softly together.
There was a murmur of approval from several members of the company, who, having heard the arrogant tone assumed by the Marquis, were filled with resentment against the slur cast upon them all. "What do you mean by that?" There was a rumble of thunder in the question. Andre-Louis' eyes swept round the company assembled at the supper-table. "Where is Climene?" he asked, sharply.
Andre-Louis, reading the sheet at breakfast, and having no delusions on the score of the falseness of that statement, laughed inwardly. The novelty of the thing, and the pretentiousness in which he had swaddled it, had deceived them finely. He turned to greet Binet and Climene, who entered at that moment. He waved the sheet above his head.
There is subtlety in pronouncing it a commonplace to call Mlle. Climene a queen." Some laughed, M. Binet amongst them, with good-humoured mockery. "You think he has the wit to mean it thus? Bah! His subtleties are all unconscious." The conversation becoming general, Andre-Louis soon learnt what yet there was to learn of this strolling band.
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