d him, tartly. "Wait until then before
you criticize my conduct."

"I trust that there will be no occasion then," said he.

"You trust? Ah, yes. You are very trusting."

"Climene, I have offended you. I am sorry."

"It is nothing," said she. "You are what you are." Still was he not
concerned. He perceived the source of her ill-humour; understood, whilst
deploring it; and, because he understood, forgave. He perceived also
that her ill-humour was shared by her father, and by this he was frankly
amused. Towards M. Binet a tolerant contempt was the only feeling that
complete acquaintance could beget. As for the rest of the company, they
were disposed to be very kindly towards Scaramouche. It was almost as
if in reality he had fallen from the high estate to which their own
imaginations had raised him; or possibly it was because they saw the
effect which that fall from his temporary and fictitious elevation had
produced upon Climene.

Leandre alone made himself an exception. His habitual melancholy
seemed to be dispelled at last, and his eyes gleamed now with malicious
satisfaction when they rested upon Scaramouche, whom occasionally he
continued to address with sly mockery as "mon prince."

On the morrow Andre-Louis saw but little of Climene. This was not
in itself extraordinary, for he was very hard at work again, with
preparations now for "Figaro-Scaramouche" which was to be played on
Saturday. Also, in addition to his manifold theatrical occupations, he
now devoted an hour every morning to the study of fencing in an academy
of arms. This was done not only to repair an omission in his education,
but also, and chiefly, to give him added grace and poise upon the stage.
He found his mind that morning distracted by thoughts of both Climene
and Aline. And oddly enough it was Aline who provided the deeper
perturbation. Climene's attitude he regarded as a passing phase which
need not seriously engage him. But the thought of Aline's conduct
towards him kept rankling, and still more deeply rankled the thought of
her possible betrothal to M. de La Tour d'Azyr.

This it was that brought forcibly to his mind the self-imposed but by
now half-forgotten mission that he had made his own. He had boasted that
he would make the voice which M. de La Tour d'Azyr had sought to silence
ring through the length and breadth of the land. And what had he done of
all this that he had boasted? He had incited the mob of Rennes and the
mob of Nan