! Ah! I will throw full in his face my. . .
(He puts his hand in his pocket, and finds there the hand of a pickpocket who
is about to rob him. He turns round):
Hey?

THE PICKPOCKET:
Oh!

CHRISTIAN (holding him tightly):
I was looking for a glove.

THE PICKPOCKET (smiling piteously):
And you find a hand.
(Changing his tone, quickly and in a whisper):
Let me but go, and I will deliver you a secret.

CHRISTIAN (still holding him):
What is it?

THE PICKPOCKET:
Ligniere. . .he who has just left you. . .

CHRISTIAN (same play):
Well?

THE PICKPOCKET:
His life is in peril. A song writ by him has given offense in high places--
and a hundred men--I am of them--are posted to-night. . .

CHRISTIAN:
A hundred men! By whom posted?

THE PICKPOCKET:
I may not say--a secret. . .

CHRISTIAN (shrugging his shoulders):
Oh!

THE PICKPOCKET (with great dignity):
. . .Of the profession.

CHRISTIAN:
Where are they posted?

THE PICKPOCKET:
At the Porte de Nesle. On his way homeward. Warn him.

CHRISTIAN (letting go of his wrists):
But where can I find him?

THE PICKPOCKET:
Run round to all the taverns--The Golden Wine Press, the Pine Cone, The Belt
that Bursts, The Two Torches, The Three Funnels, and at each leave a word that
shall put him on his guard.

CHRISTIAN:
Good--I fly! Ah, the scoundrels! A hundred men 'gainst one!
(Looking lovingly at Roxane):
Ah, to leave her!. . .
(looking with rage at Valvert):
and him!. . .But save Ligniere I must!

(He hurries out. De Guiche, the viscount, the marquises, have all disappeared
behind the curtain to take their places on the benches placed on the stage.
The pit is quite full; the galleries and boxes are also crowded.)

THE AUDIENCE:
Begin!

A BURGHER (whose wig is drawn up on the end of a string by a page in the upper
gallery):
My wig!

CRIES OF DELIGHT:
He is bald! Bravo, pages--ha! ha! ha!. . .

THE BURGHER (furious, shaking his fist):
Young villain!

LAUGHTER AND CRIES (beginning very loud, and dying gradually away):
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

(Total silence.)

LE BRET (astonished):
What means this sudden silence?. . .
(A spectator says something to him in a low voice):
Is't true?

THE SPECTATOR:
I have just heard it on good authority.

MURMURS (spreading through the hall):
Hush! Is it he? No! Ay, I say! In the box with the bars in front! The
Cardinal! The Cardinal! Th