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Perceiving this； and remembering the chandelier； he turned to
Leandre； who had remained beside him。
〃I think it is time to be going；〃 said he。
Leandre； looking ghastly under his paint； appalled by the storm
which exceeded by far anything that his unimaginative brain could
have conjectured； gurgled an inarticulate agreement。 But it looked
as if already they were too late； for in that moment they were
assailed from behind。
M。 Binet had succeeded at last in breaking past Polichinelle and
Rhodomont； who in view of his murderous rage had been endeavouring
to restrain him。 Half a dozen gentlemen； habitues of the green…room；
had come round to the stage to disembowel the knave who had created
this riot； and it was they who had flung aside those two comedians
who hung upon Binet。 After him they came now； their swords out； but
after them again came Polichinelle； Rhodomont； Harlequin； Pierrot；
Pasquariel； and Basque the artist； armed with such implements as
they could hastily snatch up； and intent upon saving the man with
whom they sympathized in spite of all； and in whom now all their
hopes were centred。
Well ahead rolled Binet； moving faster than any had ever seen him
move； and swinging the long cane from which Pantaloon is inseparable。
〃Infamous scoundrel！〃 he roared。 〃You have ruined me！ But； name
of a name； you shall pay！〃
Andre…Louis turned to face him。 〃You confuse cause with effect；〃
said he。 But he got no farther。。。 Binet's cane； viciously driven；
descended and broke upon his shoulder。 Had he not moved swiftly
aside as the blow fell it must have taken him across the head； and
possibly stunned him。 As he moved； he dropped his hand to his
pocket； and swift upon the cracking of Binet's breaking cane came
the crack of the pistol with which Andre…Louis replied。
〃You had your warning； you filthy pander！〃 he cried。 And on the
word he shot him through the body。
Binet went down screaming； whilst the fierce Polichinelle； fiercer
than ever in that moment of fierce reality； spoke quickly into
Andre…Louis' ear：
〃Fool！ So much was not necessary！ Away with you now； or you'll
leave your skin here！ Away with you！〃
Andre…Louis thought it good advice； and took it。 The gentlemen who
had followed Binet in that punitive rush upon the stage； partly
held in check by the improvised weapons of the players； partly
intimidated by the second pistol that Scaramouche presented； let
him go。 He gained the wings； and here found himself faced by a
couple of sergeants of the watch； part of the police that was
already invading the theatre with a view to restoring order。 The
sight of them reminded him unpleasantly of how he must stand
towards the law for this night's work； and more particularly for
that bullet lodged somewhere in Binet's obese body。 He flourished
his pistol。
〃Make way； or I'll burn your brains！〃 he threatened them； and
intimidated； themselves without firearms； they fell back and let
him pass。 He slipped by the door of the green…room； where the
ladies of the company had shut themselves in until the storm should
be over； and so gained the street behind the theatre。 It was
deserted。 Down this he went at a run； intent on reaching the inn
for clothes and money； since it was impossible that he should take
the road in the garb of Scaramouche。
BOOK III： THE SWORD
CHAPTER I
TRANSITION
〃You may agree；〃 wrote Andre…Louis from Paris to Le Chapelier； in
a letter which survives； 〃that it is to be regretted I should
definitely have discarded the livery of Scaramouche； since clearly
there could be no livery fitter for my wear。 It seems to be my
part always to stir up strife and then to slip away before I am
caught in the crash of the warring elements I have aroused。 It is
a humiliating reflection。 I seek consolation in the reminder of
Epictetus （do you ever read Epictetus？） that we are but actors in
a play of such a part as it may please the Director to assign us。
It does not； however； console me to have been cast for a part so
contemptible； to find myself excelling ever in the art of running
away。 But if I am not brave； at least I am prudent； so that where
I lack one virtue I may lay claim to possessing another almost to
excess。 On a previous occasion they wanted to hang me for sedition。
Should I have stayed to be hanged？ This time they may want to
hang me for several things； including murder； for I do not know
whether that scoundrel Binet be alive or dead from the dose of
lead I pumped into his fat paunch。 Nor can I say that I very
greatly care。 If I have a hope at all in the matter it is that he
is dead … and damned。 But I am really indifferent。 My own concerns
are troubling me enough。 I have all but spent the little money that
I contrived to conceal about me before I fled from Nantes on that
dreadful night； and both of the only two professions of which I can
claim to know anything … the law and the stage … are closed to me；
since I cannot find employment in either without revealing myself
as a fellow who is urgently wanted by the hangman。 As things are
it is very possible that I may die of hunger； especially considering
the present price of victuals in this ravenous city。 Again I have
recourse to Epictetus for comfort。 'It is better；' he says； 'to die
of hunger having lived without grief and fear； than to live with a
troubled spirit amid abundance。' I seem likely to perish in the
estate that he accounts so enviable。 That it does not seem exactly
enviable to me merely proves that as a Stoic I am not a success。
There is also another letter of his written at about the same time
to the Marquis de La Tour d'Azyr … a letter since published by M。
Emile Quersac in his 〃Undercurrents of the Revolution in Brittany；〃
unearthed by him from the archives of Rennes； to which it had been
consigned by M。 de Lesdiguieres； who had received it for justiciary
purposes from the Marquis。
〃The Paris newspapers；〃 he writes in this； 〃which have reported in
considerable detail the fracas at the Theatre Feydau and disclosed
the true identity of the Scaramouche who provoked it； inform me also
that you have escaped the fate I had intended for you when I raised
that storm of public opinion and public indignation。 I would not
have you take satisfaction in the thought that I regret your escape。
I do not。 I rejoice in it。 To deal justice by death has this
disadvantage that the victim has no knowledge that justice has
overtaken him。 Had you died； had you been torn limb from limb that
night； I should now repine in the thought of your eternal and
untroubled slumber。 Not in euthanasia； but in torment of mind
should the guilty atone。 You see； I am not sure that hell hereafter
is a certainty； whilst I am quite sure that it can be a certainty in
this life； and I desire you to continue to live yet awhile that you
may taste something of its bitterness。
〃You murdered Philippe de Vilmorin because you feared what you
described as his very dangerous gift of eloquence； I took an oath
that day that your evil deed should be fruitless； that I would
render it so； that the voice you had done murder to stifle should