n it as a lack of
civility, but rather as a mark of my regard for you. Picard said that
you wished to see me immediately."

"I must beg you to pardon me, my dear duke," the marquis hastened to
reply, "for insisting so strenuously upon disturbing your repose, and
cutting short perhaps some delicious dream; but I am charged to see you
upon a mission, which, among gentlemen, will not brook delay."

"You excite my curiosity to the highest degree," said Vallombreuse, "and
I cannot even imagine what this urgent business may be about."

"I suppose it is not unlikely, my lord," rejoined the marquis, "that you
have forgotten certain occurrences that took place last evening. Such
trifling matters are not apt to make a very deep impression, so with
your permission I will recall them to your mind. In the so-called
green-room, down at the tennis-court, you deigned to honour with
your particular notice a young person, Isabelle by name, and with
a playfulness that I, for my part, do not consider criminal, you
endeavoured to place an assassine for her, just above her white bosom,
complimenting her upon its fairness as you did so. This proceeding,
which I do not criticise, greatly shocked and incensed a certain actor
standing by, called Captain Fracasse, who rushed forward and seized your
arm."

"Marquis, you are the most faithful and conscientious of
historiographers," interrupted Vallombreuse. "That is all true, every
word of it, and to finish the narrative I will add that I promised the
rascal, who was as insolent as a noble, a sound thrashing at the hands
of my lackeys; the most appropriate chastisement I could think of, for a
low fellow of that sort."

"No one can blame you for that, my dear duke, for there is certainly
no very great harm in having a play-actor--or writer either, for that
matter--thoroughly thrashed, if he has had the presumption to offend,"
said the marquis, with a contemptuous shrug; "such cattle are not worth
the value of the sticks broken over their backs. But this is a different
case altogether. Under the mask of Captain Fracasse--who, by the way,
routed your ruffians in superb style--is the Baron de Sigognac; a
nobleman of the old school, the head of one of the best families we have
in Gascony; one that has been above reproach for many centuries."

"What the devil is he doing in this troupe of strolling players, pray?"
asked the Duke of Vallombreuse, with some heat, toying nervously with
the cord and t