Leandre alone made himself an exception. His habitual melancholy
seemed to be dispelled at last, and his eyes gleamed now with
malicious satisfaction when they rested upon Scaramouche, whom
occasionally he continued to address with sly mockery as "mon
prince."
On the morrow Andre-Louis saw but little of Climene. This was not
in itself extraordinary, for he was very hard at work again, with
preparations now for "Figaro-Scaramouche" which was to be played
on Saturday. Also, in addition to his manifold theatrical
occupations, he now devoted an hour every morning to the study of
fencing in an academy of arms. This was done not only to repair
an omission in his education, but also, and chiefly, to give him
added grace and poise upon the stage. He found his mind that
morning distracted by thoughts of both Climene and Aline. And
oddly enough it was Aline who provided the deeper perturbation.
Climene's attitude he regarded as a passing phase which need not
seriously engage him. But the thought of Aline's conduct towards
him kept rankling, and still more deeply rankled the thought of
her possible betrothal to M.
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