I fold it
up and put it away at the bottom of my portmanteau, like a garment that
is laid aside. Do not make use of it again, I pray you; we will see
whether under a new name I may not succeed in escaping from the
ill fortune that has thus far pursued me as the Baron de Sigognac.
Henceforth then I take poor Matamore's place, and my name is Captain
Fracasse."

"Bravo! Vive Captain Fracasse!" cried they all, with enthusiasm, "may
applause greet and follow him wherever he goes."

This sudden move on de Sigognac's part, at which the comedians were
greatly astonished, as well as deeply touched, was not so unpremeditated
as it seemed; he had been thinking about it for some time. He blushed
at the idea of being a mere parasite, living upon the bounty of these
honest players--who shared all they had with him so generously, and
without ever making him feel, for a moment, that he was under any
obligation to them, but--rather that he was conferring an honour upon
them--he deemed it less unworthy a gentleman to appear upon the stage
and do his part towards filling the common purse than to be their
pensioner in idleness; and after all, there was no disgrace in becoming
an actor. The idea of quitting them and going back to Sigognac had
indeed presented itself to his mind, but he had instantly repulsed it as
base and cowardly--it is not in the hour of danger and disaster that
the true soldier retires from the ranks. Besides, if he had wished to
go ever so much, his love for Isabelle would have kept him near her;
and then, though he was not given to day-dreams, he yet fancied that
wonderful adventures, sudden changes, and strokes of good fortune might
possibly be awaiting him in the mysterious future, into which he fain
would peer, and he would inevitably lose the chance of them all if he
returned to his ruinous chateau.

Everything being thus satisfactorily arranged, the old horse was
harnessed up again, and the chariot moved slowly forward on its way.
Their good meal had revived everybody's drooping spirits, and they
all, excepting the duenna and Serafina, who never walked if they could
possibly help it, trudged cheerily along, laughing and talking as they
went.

Isabelle had taken de Sigognac's offered arm, and leaned on it proudly,
glancing furtively up into his face, whenever he was looking away
from her, with eyes full of tenderness and loving admiration, never
suspecting, in her modesty, that it was for love of her that he