ad 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. Irritated enough had he been already by the overriding of
his every wish, by the consciousness of his weakness when opposed
to Scaramouche. And, although he had suffered the gradual process of
usurpation of authority because its every step had been attended by
his own greater profit, deep down in him the resentment abode to stifle
every spark of that gratitude due from him to his partner. To-night
his nerves had been on the rack, and he had suffered agonies of
apprehension, for all of which he blamed Scaramouche so bitterly that
not even the ultimate success--almost miraculous when all the elements
are considered--could justify his partner in his eyes.

And now, to find himself, in addition, ignored by this company--his own
company, which he had so laboriously and slowly assembled and selected
among the men of ability whom he had found here and there in the
dregs of cities--was something that stirred his bile, and aroused the
malevolence that never did more than slumber in him. But deeply though
his rage was moved, it did not blind him to the folly of betraying it.
Yet that he should assert himself in this hour was imperative unless he
were for ever to become a thing of no account in this troupe over which
he had lorded it for long months before this interloper came amongst
them to fill his purse and destroy his authority.

So he stepped forward now when Polichinelle had done. His make-up
assisting him to mask his bitter feelings, he professed to add his own
to Polichinelle's acclamations of his dear partner. But he did it in
such a manner as to make it clear that what Scaramouche had done, he
had done by M. Binet's favour, and that in all M. Binet's had been the
guiding hand. In associating himself with Polichinelle, he desired to
thank Scaramouche, much in the manner of a lord rendering thanks to his
steward for services diligently rendered and orders scrupulously carried
out.

It neither deceived the troupe nor mollified himself. Indeed, his
consciousness of the mockery of it but increased his bitterness. But at
least it saved his face and rescued him from nullity--he who was their
chief.

To say, as I have said, that it did not deceive them, is perhaps to say
too much, for it deceived them at least on the score of his feelings.
They believed, after discounting