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Soon I shall be writing plays in the
modern manner."
"You deceive yourself, my poor Andre. The piece last night would
have been nothing without the players. You are fortunate in your
Scaramouche."
"In confidence - I present you to him."
"You - Scaramouche? You?" She turned to regard him fully. He
smiled his close-lipped smile that made wrinkles like gashes in
his cheeks. He nodded. "And I didn't recognize you!"
"I thank you for the tribute. You imagined, of course, that I was
a scene-shifter. And now that you know all about me, what of
Gavrillac? What of my godfather?"
He was well, she told him, and still profoundly indignant with
Andre-Louis for his defection, whilst secretly concerned on his
behalf.
"I shall write to him to-day that I have seen you."
"Do so. Tell him that I am well and prospering. But say no more.
Do not tell him what I am doing. He has his prejudices too.
Besides, it might not be prudent. And now the question I have been
burning to ask ever since I entered your carriage.


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