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Updated: June 16, 2025
But it looked as if already they were too late, for in that moment they were assailed from behind. M. Binet had succeeded at last in breaking past Polichinelle and Rhodomont, who in view of his murderous rage had been endeavouring to restrain him.
"And what is more, that is what it will be; that is what it already is. Do you doubt it?" "I hope it," said the schooled Leandre. "You may believe it," said Scaramouche, and again the acclamations rolled into thunder. Polichinelle and Rhodomont exchanged glances: indeed, the former winked, not without mirth. "Sacred name!" growled a voice behind them.
But the other parts had all been built up into importance, with the exception of Leandre, who remained as before. The two great roles were now Scaramouche, in the character of the intriguing Sbrigandini, and Pantaloon the father. There was, too, a comical part for Rhodomont, as the roaring bully hired by Polichinelle to cut Leandre into ribbons.
Although the scenario of "Lee Fourberies de Scaramouche" has not apparently survived, yet we know from Andre-Louis' "Confessions" that it is opened by Polichinelle in the character of an arrogant and fiercely jealous lover shown in the act of beguiling the waiting-maid, Columbine, to play the spy upon her mistress, Climene.
"You think I do not understand you and all that goes on in you. Why, everybody knows what you are doing. C'est le secret de polichinelle. And I am delighted with your work, and think highly of you." "Really, there is nothing to be delighted with; and I have done so little as Yet." "No matter. I understand your feelings, and I understand her. All right, all right.
He even condescended so far as to attribute a share of the credit for the success to M. Parvissimus. "His suggestion," he was careful to say, by way of properly delimiting that share, "was most valuable, as I perceived at the time." "And his cutting of quills," growled Polichinelle. "Don't forget that.
He had been Pantaloon in the comedy so far. But now they should find him Pantaloon in the tragedy nay, not Pantaloon at all, but Polichinelle, the sinister jester, the cynical clown, who laughs in murdering. And in anguished silence should they bear the punishment he would mete out to them, or else in no less anguished speech themselves proclaim their own dastardy to the world.
Davies might get the fable in Montaigne, and, knowing that some Great One wrote Will's plays, might therefore, in irony, address him as "Our English Terence." This is a pretty free conjecture! In Roman comedy he had only two names known to him to choose from; he took Terence, not Plautus. But if Davies was in the great Secret, a world of others must have shared le Secret de Polichinelle.
They acknowledged it generously in a speech entrusted to Polichinelle, adding the tribute to his genius that, as they had conquered Nantes, so would they conquer the world under his guidance. In their enthusiasm they were a little neglectful of the feelings of M. Binet.
That her sacred secret, for instance, might be no more than a secret de Polichinelle suspected by many, did not, so far, occur to her. Believing it to be her exclusive property, therefore, she, inspired by tender cunning, strove manfully to keep it so. To that end she made play with the purely physical miseries of her indisposition.
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