CHAPTER IV. EXIT MONSIEUR PARVISSIMUS
Ar four o'clock on Monday afternoon the curtain rose on"Figaro-Scaramouche" to an audience that filled three quarters of themarket-hall. M. Binet attributed this good attendance to the influx ofpeople to Guichen for the fair, and to the magnificent parade of hiscompany through the streets of the township at the busiest time ofthe day. Andre-Louis attributed it entirely to the title. It was the"Figaro" touch that had fetched in the better-class bourgeoisie, whichfilled more than half of the twenty-sous places and three quartersof the twelve-sous seats. The lure had drawn them. Whether it was tocontinue to do so would depend upon the manner in which the canevasover which he had laboured to the glory of Binet was interpreted bythe company. Of the merits of the canevas itself he had no doubt. Theauthors upon whom he had drawn for the elements of it were sound, and hehad taken of their best, which he claimed to be no more than the justicedue to them.
The company excelled itself. The audience followed with relish the slyintriguings of Scaramouche, delighted in the beauty and freshness ofClimene, was moved almost to tears by the hard fate which through fourlong acts kept her from the hungering arms of the so beautiful Leandre,howled its delight over the ignominy of Pantaloon, the buffooneries ofhis sprightly lackey Harlequin, and the thrasonical strut and bellowingfierceness of the cowardly Rhodomont.
The success of the Binet troupe in Guichen was assured. That night thecompany drank Burgundy at M. Binet's expense. The takings reached thesum of eight louis, which was as good business as M. Binet had ever donein all his career. He was very pleased. Gratification rose like steamfrom his fat body. He even condescended so far as to attribute a shareof the credit for the success to M. Parvissimus.
"His suggestion," he was careful to say, by way of properly delimitingthat share, "was most valuable, as I perceived at the time."
"And his cutting of quills," growled Polichinelle. "Don't forget that.It is most important to have by you a man who understands how to cut aquill, as I shall remember when I turn author."
But not even that gibe could stir M. Binet out of his lethargy ofcontent.
On Tuesday the success was repeated artistically and augmentedfinancially. Ten louis and seven livres was the enormous sum thatAndre-Louis, the doorkeeper, counted over to M. Binet after theperformance. Never yet had M. Binet made so much money in oneevening--and a miserable little village like Guichen was certainly thelast place in which he would have expected this windfall.
"Ah, but Guichen in time of fair," Andre-Louis reminded him. "There arepeople here from as far as Nantes and Rennes to buy and sell. To-morrow,being the last day of the fair, the crowds will be greater than ever. Weshould better this evening's receipts."
"Better them? I shall be quite satisfied if we do as well, my friend."
"You can depend upon that," Andre-Louis assured him. "Are we to haveBurgundy?"
And then the tragedy occurred. It announced itself in a succession ofbumps and thuds, culminating in a crash outside the door that broughtthem all to their feet in alarm.
Pierrot sprang to open, and beheld the tumbled body of a man lyingat the foot of the stairs. It emitted groans, therefore it was alive.Pierrot went forward to turn it over, and disclosed the fact thatthe body wore the wizened face of Scaramouche, a grimacing, groaning,twitching Scaramouche.
The whole company, pressing after Pierrot, abandoned itself to laughter.
"I always said you should change parts with me," cried Harlequin."You're such an excellent tumbler. Have you been practising?"
"Fool!" Scaramouche snapped. "Must you be laughing when I've all butbroken my neck?"
"You are right. We ought to be weeping because you didn't break it.Come, man, get up," and he held out a hand to the prostrate rogue.
Scaramouche took the hand, clutched it, heaved himself from the ground,then with a scream dropped back again.
"My foot!" he complained.
Binet rolled through the group of players, scattering them to right andleft. Apprehension had been quick to seize him. Fate had played him suchtricks before.
"What ails your foot?" quoth he, sourly.
"It's broken, I think," Scaramouche complained.
"Broken? Bah! Get up, man." He caught him under the armpits and hauledhim up.
Scaramouche came howling to one foot; the other doubled under him whenhe attempted to set it down, and he must have collapsed again but thatBinet supported him. He filled the place with his plaint, whilst Binetswore amazingly and variedly.
"Must you bellow like a calf, you fool? Be quiet. A chair here, someone."
A chair was thrust forward. He crushed Scaramouche down into it.
"Let us look at this foot of yours."
Heedless of Scaramouche's howls of pain, he swept away shoe andstocking.
"What ails it?" he asked, staring. "Nothing that I can see." He seizedit, heel in one hand, instep in the other, and gyrated it. Scaramouchescreamed in agony, until Climene caught Binet's arm and made him stop.
"My God, have you no feelings?" she reproved her father. "The lad hashurt his foot. Must you torture him? Will that cure it?"
"Hurt his foot!" said Binet. "I can see nothing the matter with hisfoot--nothing to justify all this uproar. He has bruised it, maybe..."
"A man with a bruised foot doesn't scream like that," said Madame overClimene's shoulder. "Perhaps he has dislocated it."
"That is what I fear," whimpered Scaramouche.
Binet heaved himself up in disgust.
"Take him to bed," he bade them, "and fetch a doctor to see him."
It was done, and the doctor came. Having seen the patient, he reportedthat nothing very serious had happened, but that in falling he hadevidently sprained his foot a little. A few days' rest and all would bewell.
"A few days!" cried Binet. "God of God! Do you mean that he can't walk?"
"It would be unwise, indeed impossible for more than a few steps."
M. Binet paid the doctor's fee, and sat down to think. He filled himselfa glass of Burgundy, tossed it off without a word, and sat thereafterstaring into the empty glass.
"It is of course the sort of thing that must always be happening to me,"he grumbled to no one in particular. The members of the company were allstanding in silence before him, sharing his dismay. "I might have knownthat this--or something like it--would occur to spoil the first vein ofluck that I have found in years. Ah, well, it is finished. To-morrow wepack and depart. The best day of the fair, on the crest of the wave ofour success--a good fifteen louis to be taken, and this happens! God ofGod!"
"Do you mean to abandon to-morrow's performance?"
All turned to stare with Binet at Andre-Louis.
"Are we to play 'Figaro-Scaramouche' without Scaramouche?" asked Binet,sneering.
"Of course not." Andre-Louis came forward. "But surely somerearrangement of the parts is possible. For instance, there is a fineactor in Polichinelle."
Polichinelle swept him a bow. "Overwhelmed," said he, ever sardonic.
"But he has a part of his own," objected Binet.
"A small part, which Pasquariel could play."
"And who will play Pasquariel?"
"Nobody. We delete it. The play need not suffer."
"He thinks of everything," sneered Polichinelle. "What a man!"
But Binet was far from agreement. "Are you suggesting that Polichinelleshould play Scaramouche?" he asked, incredulously.
"Why not? He is able enough!"
"Overwhelmed again," interjected Polichinelle.
"Play Scaramouche with that figure?" Binet heaved himself up to point adenunciatory finger at Polichinelle's sturdy, thick-set shortness.
"For lack of a better," said Andre-Louis.
"Overwhelmed more than ever." Polichinelle's bow was superb this time."Faith, I think I'll take the air to cool me after so much blushing."
"Go to the devil," Binet flung at him.
"Better and better." Polichinelle made for the door. On the thres
hold hehalted and struck an attitude. "Understand me, Binet. I do not now playScaramouche in any circumstances whatever." And he went out. On thewhole, it was a very dignified exit.
Andre-Louis shrugged, threw out his arms, and let them fall to his sidesagain. "You have ruined everything," he told M. Binet. "The matter couldeasily have been arranged. Well, well, it is you are master here;and since you want us to pack and be off, that is what we will do, Isuppose."
He went out, too. M. Binet stood in thought a moment, then followed him,his little eyes very cunning. He caught him up in the doorway. "Let ustake a walk together, M. Parvissimus," said he, very affably.
He thrust his arm through Andre-Louis', and led him out into the street,where there was still considerable movement. Past the booths that rangedabout the market they went, and down the hill towards the bridge. "Idon't think we shall pack to-morrow," said M. Binet, presently. "Infact, we shall play to-morrow night."
"Not if I know Polichinelle. You have..."
"I am not thinking of Polichinelle."
"Of whom, then?"
"Of yourself."
"I am flattered, sir. And in what capacity are you thinking of me?"There was something too sleek and oily in Binet's voice for Andre-Louis'taste.
"I am thinking of you in the part of Scaramouche."
"Day-dreams," said Andre-Louis. "You are amusing yourself, of course."
"Not in the least. I am quite serious."
"But I am not an actor."
"You told me that you could be."
"Oh, upon occasion... a small part, perhaps..."
"Well, here is a big part--the chance to arrive at a single stride. Howmany men have had such a chance?"
"It is a chance I do not covet, M. Binet. Shall we change the subject?"He was very frosty, as much perhaps because he scented in M. Binet'smanner something that was vaguely menacing as for any other reason.
"We'll change the subject when I please," said M. Binet, allowing aglimpse of steel to glimmer through the silk of him. "To-morrow nightyou play Scaramouche. You are ready enough in your wits, your figure isideal, and you have just the kind of mordant humour for the part. Youshould be a great success."
"It is much more likely that I should be an egregious failure."
"That won't matter," said Binet, cynically, and explained himself."The failure will be personal to yourself. The receipts will be safe bythen."
"Much obliged," said Andre-Louis.
"We should take fifteen louis to-morrow night."
"It is unfortunate that you are without a Scaramouche," saidAndre-Louis.
"It is fortunate that I have one, M. Parvissimus."
Andre-Louis disengaged his arm. "I begin to find you tiresome," said he."I think I will return."
"A moment, M. Parvissimus. If I am to lose that fifteen louis... you'llnot take it amiss that I compensate myself in other ways?"
"That is your own concern, M. Binet."
"Pardon, M. Parvissimus. It may possibly be also yours." Binet took hisarm again. "Do me the kindness to step across the street with me. Justas far as the post-office there. I have something to show you."
Andre-Louis went. Before they reached that sheet of paper nailed uponthe door, he knew exactly what it would say. And in effect it was, as hehad supposed, that twenty louis would be paid for information leading tothe apprehension of one Andre-Louis Moreau, lawyer of Gavrillac, who waswanted by the King's Lieutenant in Rennes upon a charge of sedition.
M. Binet watched him whilst he read. Their arms were linked, and Binet'sgrip was firm and powerful.
"Now, my friend," said he, "will you be M. Parvissimus and playScaramouche to-morrow, or will you be Andre-Louis Moreau of Gavrillacand go to Rennes to satisfy the King's Lieutenant?"
"And if it should happen that you are mistaken?" quoth Andre-Louis, hisface a mask.
"I'll take the risk of that," leered M. Binet. "You mentioned, I think,that you were a lawyer. An indiscretion, my dear. It is unlikely thattwo lawyers will be in hiding at the same time in the same district. Yousee it is not really clever of me. Well, M. Andre-Louis Moreau, lawyerof Gavrillac, what is it to be?"
"We will talk it over as we walk back," said Andre-Louis.
"What is there to talk over?"
"One or two things, I think. I must know where I stand. Come, sir, ifyou please."
"Very well," said M. Binet, and they turned up the street again, but M.Binet maintained a firm hold of his young friend's arm, and kept himselfon the alert for any tricks that the young gentleman might be disposedto play. It was an unnecessary precaution. Andre-Louis was not the manto waste his energy futilely. He knew that in bodily strength he was nomatch at all for the heavy and powerful Pantaloon.
"If I yield to your most eloquent and seductive persuasions, M. Binet,"said he, sweetly, "what guarantee do you give me that you will not sellme for twenty louis after I shall have served your turn?"
"You have my word of honour for that." M. Binet was emphatic.
Andre-Louis laughed. "Oh, we are to talk of honour, are we? Really, M.Binet? It is clear you think me a fool."
In the dark he did not see the flush that leapt to M. Binet's roundface. It was some moments before he replied.
"Perhaps you are right," he growled. "What guarantee do you want?"
"I do not know what guarantee you can possibly give."
"I have said that I will keep faith with you."
"Until you find it more profitable to sell me."
"You have it in your power to make it more profitable always for meto keep faith with you. It is due to you that we have done so well inGuichen. Oh, I admit it frankly."
"In private," said Andre-Louis.
M. Binet left the sarcasm unheeded.
"What you have done for us here with 'Figaro-Scaramouche,' you can doelsewhere with other things. Naturally, I shall not want to lose you.That is your guarantee."
"Yet to-night you would sell me for twenty louis."
"Because--name of God!--you enrage me by refusing me a service well withinyour powers. Don't you think, had I been entirely the rogue you thinkme, I could have sold you on Saturday last? I want you to understand me,my dear Parvissimus."
"I beg that you'll not apologize. You would be more tiresome than ever."
"Of course you will be gibing. You never miss a chance to gibe. It'llbring you trouble before you're done with life. Come; here we are backat the inn, and you have not yet given me your decision."
Andre-Louis looked at him. "I must yield, of course. I can't helpmyself."
M. Binet released his arm at last, and slapped him heartily upon theback. "Well declared, my lad. You'll never regret it. If I know anythingof the theatre, I know that you have made the great decision of yourlife. To-morrow night you'll thank me."
Andre-Louis shrugged, and stepped out ahead towards the inn. But M.Binet called him back.
"M. Parvissimus!"
He turned. There stood the man's great bulk, the moonlight beating downupon that round fat face of his, and he was holding out his hand.
"M. Parvissimus, no rancour. It is a thing I do not admit into my life.You will shake hands with me, and we will forget all this."
Andre-Louis considered him a moment with disgust. He was growingangry. Then, realizing this, he conceived himself ridiculous, almost asridiculous as that sly, scoundrelly Pantaloon. He laughed and took theoutstretched hand. "No rancour?" M. Binet insisted.
"Oh, no rancour," said Andre-Louis.