de Sautron, the Marquis would have found in the events of
that evening at the Theatre Feydau a sufficient reason for ending
an entanglement that was fraught with too much unpleasant excitement,
whilst the breaking-up of the Binet Troupe was most certainly the
result of Andre-Louis' work. But it was not a result that he
intended or even foresaw.
So much was this the case that in the interval after the second act,
he sought the dressing-room shared by Polichinelle and Rhodomont.
Polichinelle was in the act of changing.
"I shouldn't trouble to change," he said. "The piece isn't likely
to go beyond my opening scene of the next act with Leandre."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see." He put a paper on Polichinelle's table amid the
grease-paints. "Cast your eye over that. It's a sort of last will
and testament in favour of the troupe. I was a lawyer once; the
document is in order. I relinquish to all of you the share produced
by my partnership in the company."
"But you don't mean that you are leaving us?" cried Polichinelle in
alarm, whilst Rhodomont's sudden stare asked the same question.
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