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Columbine clapped her hands and flashed her strong teeth. "But what a romance for you, Climene! How wonderful!" The frown melted from Climene's brow. Resentment changed to bewilderment. "But who is she?" "His sister, of course," said Harlequin, quite definitely. "His sister? How do you know?" "I know what he will tell you on his return." "But why?"
The clamour of Harlequin, who was covered with glass, papier-machee, lamps and oil, the screams of the ladies, the universal buz of tongues, and the struggle between the frighted crowd which was enclosed to get out, and the curious crowd from the other apartments to get in, occasioned a disturbance and tumult equally noisy and confused.
It is especially curious to behold one of these clowns compelled to go through the most surprising contortions by the irresistible influence of the wand of office, which his leader or harlequin holds above his head.
'We have been attacked, screamed the manager. 'I know I know. It's all right, yelled back the other, as cheerful as you please. 'Come along. It's all right. I am glad. "His aspect reminded me of something I had seen something funny I had seen somewhere. As I manoeuvred to get alongside, I was asking myself, 'What does this fellow look like? Suddenly I got it. He looked like a harlequin.
Looming through there were the great supply wagons, with others of lighter stores, holding boxes and barrels of wines and fruits, commodities of all sorts, gold-leafed fripperies, luxuries of all manner, poured across the Potomac for her soldiers by the North. Sutlers' wagons did not lack, garishly stocked, forlorn as Harlequin in the day's stress.
His business was to deal in Spanish rhodomontades, to kick out the native Italian Capitan, in compliment to the Spaniards, and then to take a quiet caning from Harlequin, in compliment to themselves. When the Spaniards lost their influence in Italy, the Spanish Captain was turned into Scaramouch, who still wore the Spanish dress, and was perpetually in a panic.
Thus low I kneel, in thanks for this great Blessing. Where, while a Hymeneal Song is sung, the Priest joins their Hands: The Song ended, and they marry'd, they come forth; but before they come forward, two Chariots descend one on one side above, and the other on the other side; in which is Harlequin dress'd like a Mock Hero, with others; and Scaramouch in the other, dress'd so in Helmets. Scar.
What could be done for them? The painter had an idea. "Write a fine article for the Gazette," he said: "you know how to write well: relate the miraculous things which the little harlequin does, and I will take his portrait for you. Everybody reads the Gazette, and people will flock thither for once." And thus they did.
Then an inner voice prompted him that the cue was comedy. "Excellent fooling excellent!" he said with a laugh. "Tell the premier that I should lose when I have five million men to their three million! What a harlequin chief of staff I should be! Excellent fooling! You almost had me!"
The Lord Chancellor came next in a grand car. Although his wig was even longer than those of his fellow functionaries, his manners and the rest of his costume afforded a strange contrast to them. Apparently never was such a droll, lively fellow. His dress was something between that of Harlequin and Scaramouch.
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