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"
"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
have Burgundy?"
And then the tragedy occurred. It announced itself in a succession
of bumps and thuds, culminating in a crash outside the door that
brought them all to their feet in alarm.
Pierrot sprang to open, and beheld the tumbled body of a man lying
at the foot of the stairs. It emitted groans, therefore it was
alive. Pierrot went forward to turn it over, and disclosed the fact
that the 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
but broken 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.


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