staring into the empty glass.

"It is of course the sort of thing that must always be happening to me,"
he grumbled to no one in particular. The members of the company were all
standing in silence before him, sharing his dismay. "I might have known
that this--or something like it--would occur to spoil the first vein of
luck that I have found in years. Ah, well, it is finished. To-morrow we
pack and depart. The best day of the fair, on the crest of the wave of
our success--a good fifteen louis to be taken, and this happens! God of
God!"

"Do you mean to abandon to-morrow's performance?"

All turned to stare with Binet at Andre-Louis.

"Are we to play 'Figaro-Scaramouche' without Scaramouche?" asked Binet,
sneering.

"Of course not." Andre-Louis came forward. "But surely some
rearrangement of the parts is possible. For instance, there is a fine
actor in Polichinelle."

Polichinelle swept him a bow. "Overwhelmed," said he, ever sardonic.

"But he has a part of his own," objected Binet.

"A small part, which Pasquariel could play."

"And who will play Pasquariel?"

"Nobody. We delete it. The play need not suffer."

"He thinks of everything," sneered Polichinelle. "What a man!"

But Binet was far from agreement. "Are you suggesting that Polichinelle
should play Scaramouche?" he asked, incredulously.

"Why not? He is able enough!"

"Overwhelmed again," interjected Polichinelle.

"Play Scaramouche with that figure?" Binet heaved himself up to point a
denunciatory finger at Polichinelle's sturdy, thick-set shortness.

"For lack of a better," said Andre-Louis.

"Overwhelmed more than ever." Polichinelle's bow was superb this time.
"Faith, I think I'll take the air to cool me after so much blushing."

"Go to the devil," Binet flung at him.

"Better and better." Polichinelle made for the door. On the threshold he
halted and struck an attitude. "Understand me, Binet. I do not now play
Scaramouche in any circumstances whatever." And he went out. On the
whole, it was a very dignified exit.

Andre-Louis shrugged, threw out his arms, and let them fall to his sides
again. "You have ruined everything," he told M. Binet. "The matter could
easily have been arranged. Well, well, it is you are master here;
and since you want us to pack and be off, that is what we will do, I
suppose."

He went out, too. M. Binet stood in thought a moment, then followed him,
his little eyes very cunning. He caught him up in the door