Chapter Chapter 14 · ENTER SCARAMOUCHE
. ENTER SCARAMOUCHE
Dressed in the close-fitting suit of a bygone age, all black, from flat
velvet cap to rosetted shoes, his face whitened and a slight up-curled
moustache glued to his upper lip, a small-sword at his side and a guitar
slung behind him, Scaramouche surveyed himself in a mirror, and was
disposed to be sardonic--which was the proper mood for the part.
He reflected that his life, which until lately had been of a stagnant,
contemplative quality, had suddenly become excessively active. In the
course of one week he had been lawyer, mob-orator, outlaw, property-man,
and finally buffoon. Last Wednesday he had been engaged in moving
an audience of Rennes to anger; on this Wednesday he was to move an
audience of Guichen to mirth. Then he had been concerned to draw tears;
to-day it was his business to provoke laughter. There was a difference,
and yet there was a parallel. Then as now he had been a comedian; and
the part that he had played then was, when you came to think of it, akin
to the part he was to play this evening. For what had he been at Rennes
but a sort of Scaramouche--the little skirmisher, the astute intriguer,
spattering the seed of trouble with a sly hand? The only difference
lay in the fact that to-day he went forth under the name that properly
described his type, whereas last week he had been disguised as a
respectable young provincial attorney.
He bowed to his reflection in the mirror.
“Buffoon!” he apostrophized it. “At last you have found yourself. At
last you have come into your heritage. You should be a great success.”
Hearing his new name called out by M. Binet, he went below to find the
company assembled, and waiting in the entrance corridor of the inn.
He was, of course, an object of great interest to all the company. Most
critically was he conned by M. Binet and mademoiselle; by the former
with gravely searching eyes, by the latter with a curl of scornful lip.
“You’ll do,” M. Binet commended his make-up. “At least you look the
part.”
“Unfortunately men are not always what they look,” said