rmance of theirs at the Theatre
Feydau to a house that was tolerably filled by a public whose curiosity
the preliminary announcements had thoroughly stimulated.

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. Beginning with cajolery, but
failing in this with the saucy Columbine, who likes cajolers to be at
least attractive and to pay a due deference to her own very piquant
charms, the fierce humpbacked scoundrel passes on to threats of the
terrible vengeance he will wreak upon her if she betrays him or neglects
to obey him implicitly; failing here, likewise, he finally has recourse
to bribery, and after he has bled himself freely to the very expectant
Columbine, he succeeds by these means in obtaining her consent to spy
upon Climene, and to report to him upon her lady's conduct.

The pair played the scene well together, stimulated, perhaps, by their
very nervousness at finding themselves before so imposing an audience.
Polichinelle was everything that is fierce, contemptuous, and insistent.
Columbine was the essence of pert indifference under his cajolery,
saucily mocking under his threats, and finely sly in extorting the very
maximum when it came to accepting a bribe. Laughter rippled through
the audience and promised well. But M. Binet, standing trembling in the
wings, missed the great guffaws of the rustic spectators to whom they
had played hitherto, and his fears steadily mounted.

Then, scarcely has Polichinelle departed by the door than Scaramouche
bounds in through the window. It was an effective entrance, usually
performed with a broad comic effect that set the people in a roar. Not
so on this occasion. Meditating in bed that morning, Scaramouche had
decided to present himself in a totally different aspect. He would cut
out all the broad play, all the usual clowning which had delighted
their past rude audiences, and he would obtain his effects by subtlety
instead. He would present a slyly humorous rogue, restrained, and of a
certain dignity, wearing a countenance of complete solemnity, speaking
his lines drily, as if unconscious of the humour with which he intended
to invest them. Thus, though it might take the audience longer to
unders