three knocks sounded as he spoke.

"There, I must go. Keep that paper, Polichinelle. After all, it may not
be necessary."

He was gone. Rhodomont stared at Polichinelle. Polichinelle stared at
Rhodomont.

"What the devil is he thinking of?" quoth the latter.

"That is most readily ascertained by going to see," replied
Polichinelle. He completed changing in haste, and despite what
Scaramouche had said; and then followed with Rhodomont.

As they approached the wings a roar of applause met them coming from
the audience. It was applause and something else; applause on an unusual
note. As it faded away they heard the voice of Scaramouche ringing clear
as a bell:

"And so you see, my dear M. Leandre, that when you speak of the Third
Estate, it is necessary to be more explicit. What precisely is the Third
Estate?"

"Nothing," said Leandre.

There was a gasp from the audience, audible in the wings, and then
swiftly followed Scaramouche's next question:

"True. Alas! But what should it be?"

"Everything," said Leandre.

The audience roared its acclamations, the more violent because of the
unexpectedness of that reply.

"True again," said Scaramouche. "And what is more, that is what it will
be; that is what it already is. Do you doubt it?"

"I hope it," said the schooled Leandre.

"You may believe it," said Scaramouche, and again the acclamations
rolled into thunder.

Polichinelle and Rhodomont exchanged glances: indeed, the former winked,
not without mirth.

"Sacred name!" growled a voice behind them. "Is the scoundrel at his
political tricks again?"

They turned to confront M. Binet. Moving with that noiseless tread of
his, he had come up unheard behind them, and there he stood now in his
scarlet suit of Pantaloon under a trailing bedgown, his little eyes
glaring from either side of his false nose. But their attention was held
by the voice of Scaramouche. He had stepped to the front of the stage.

"He doubts it," he was telling the audience. "But then this M. Leandre
is himself akin to those who worship the worm-eaten idol of Privilege,
and so he is a little afraid to believe a truth that is becoming
apparent to all the world. Shall I convince him? Shall I tell him how a
company of noblemen backed by their servants under arms--six hundred men
in all--sought to dictate to the Third Estate of Rennes a few short weeks
ago? Must I remind him of the martial front shown on that occasion by
the Third Estate,