hange
between those two was a complete one.

Headed by Polichinelle banging his great drum and Pierrot blowing his
trumpet, they set out, and were duly passed in review by the ragamuffins
drawn up in files to enjoy so much of the spectacle as was to be
obtained for nothing.

Ten minutes later the three knocks sounded, and the curtains were drawn
aside to reveal a battered set that was partly garden, partly forest, in
which Climene feverishly looked for the coming of Leandre. In the wings
stood the beautiful, melancholy lover, awaiting his cue, and immediately
behind him the unfledged Scaramouche, who was anon to follow him.

Andre-Louis was assailed with nausea in that dread moment. He attempted
to take a lightning mental review of the first act of this scenario of
which he was himself the author-in-chief; but found his mind a complete
blank. With the perspiration starting from his skin, he stepped back to
the wall, where above a dim lantern was pasted a sheet bearing the
brief outline of the piece. He was still studying it, when his arm
was clutched, and he was pulled violently towards the wings. He had a
glimpse of Pantaloon's grotesque face, its eyes blazing, and he caught a
raucous growl:

"Climene has spoken your cue three times already."

Before he realized it, he had been bundled on to the stage, and stood
there foolishly, blinking in the glare of the footlights, with their tin
reflectors. So utterly foolish and bewildered did he look that volley
upon volley of laughter welcomed him from the audience, which this
evening packed the hall from end to end. Trembling a little, his
bewilderment at first increasing, he stood there to receive that rolling
tribute to his absurdity. Climene was eyeing him with expectant
mockery, savouring in advance his humiliation; Leandre regarded him in
consternation, whilst behind the scenes, M. Binet was dancing in fury.

"Name of a name," he groaned to the rather scared members of the company
assembled there, "what will happen when they discover that he isn't
acting?"

But they never did discover it. Scaramouche's bewildered paralysis
lasted but a few seconds. He realized that he was being laughed at, and
remembered that his Scaramouche was a creature to be laughed with, and
not at. He must save the situation; twist it to his own advantage as
best he could. And now his real bewilderment and terror was succeeded by
acted bewilderment and terror far more marked, but not quite s