Again it was Leandre who answered him.
"Not yet."
"Ah!" Andre-Louis sat down, and poured himself wine. There was
an oppressive silence in the room. Leandre watched him expectantly,
Columbine commiseratingly. Even M. Binet appeared to be waiting
for a cue from Scaramouche. But Scaramouche disappointed him.
"Have you left me anything to eat?" he asked.
Platters were pushed towards him. He helped himself calmly to food,
and ate in silence, apparently with a good appetite. M. Binet sat
down, poured himself wine, and drank. Presently he attempted to
make conversation with one and another. He was answered curtly, in
monosyllables. M. Binet did not appear to be in favour with his
troupe that night.
At long length came a rumble of wheels below and a rattle of halting
hooves. Then voices, the high, trilling laugh of Climene floating
upwards. Andre-Louis went on eating unconcernedly.
"What an actor!" said Harlequin under his breath to Polichinelle,
and Polichinelle nodded gloomily.
She came in, a leading lady taking the stage, head high, chin thrust
forward, eyes dancing with laughter; she expressed triumph and
arrogance.
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