He thrust his arm through Andre-Louis', and led him out into the street, where there was still considerable movement. Past the booths that ranged about the market they went, and down the hill towards the bridge. "I don't think we shall pack to-morrow," said M. Binet, presently. "In fact, we shall play to-morrow night."
"Not if I know Polichinelle. You have... "
"I am not thinking of Polichinelle."
"Of whom, then?"
"Of yourself."
"I am flattered, sir. And in what capacity are you thinking of me?" There was something too sleek and oily in Binet's voice for Andre-Louis' taste.
"I am thinking of you in the part of Scaramouche."
"Day-dreams," said Andre-Louis. "You are amusing yourself, of course."
"Not in the least. I am quite serious."
"But I am not an actor.
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