the insinuations in which he took all
credit to himself, that at heart he was filled with gratitude, as they
were. That belief was shared by Andre-Louis himself, who in his brief,
grateful answer was very generous to M. Binet, more than endorsing the
claims that M. Binet had made.

And then followed from him the announcement that their success in Nantes
was the sweeter to him because it rendered almost immediately attainable
the dearest wish of his heart, which was to make Climene his wife.
It was a felicity of which he was the first to acknowledge his utter
unworthiness. It was to bring him into still closer relations with
his good friend M. Binet, to whom he owed all that he had achieved for
himself and for them. The announcement was joyously received, for the
world of the theatre loves a lover as dearly as does the greater world.
So they acclaimed the happy pair, with the exception of poor Leandre,
whose eyes were more melancholy than ever.

They were a happy family that night in the upstairs room of their inn on
the Quai La Fosse--the same inn from which Andre-Louis had set out some
weeks ago to play a vastly different role before an audience of Nantes.
Yet was it so different, he wondered? Had he not then been a sort of
Scaramouche--an intriguer, glib and specious, deceiving folk, cynically
misleading them with opinions that were not really his own? Was it at
all surprising that he should have made so rapid and signal a success
as a mime? Was not this really all that he had ever been, the thing for
which Nature had designed him?

On the following night they played "The Shy Lover" to a full house, the
fame of their debut having gone abroad, and the success of Monday was
confirmed. On Wednesday they gave "Figaro-Scaramouche," and on Thursday
morning the "Courrier Nantais" came out with an article of more than
a column of praise of these brilliant improvisers, for whom it claimed
that they utterly put to shame the mere reciters of memorized parts.

Andre-Louis, reading the sheet at breakfast, and having no delusions
on the score of the falseness of that statement, laughed inwardly. The
novelty of the thing, and the pretentiousness in which he had swaddled
it, had deceived them finely. He turned to greet Binet and Climene, who
entered at that moment. He waved the sheet above his head.

"It is settled," he announced, "we stay in Nantes until Easter."

"Do we?" said Binet, sourly. "You settle everything, my friend.