“Come, come, my lads! Are we to sit guzzling here all day? Time flees, and there’s a deal to be done if we are to make our entry into Guichen at noon. Go, get you dressed. We strike camp in twenty minutes. Bestir, ladies! To your chaise, and see that you contrive to look your best. Soon the eyes of Guichen will be upon you, and the condition of your interior to-morrow will depend upon the impression made by your exterior to-day. Away! Away!” The implicit obedience this autocrat commanded set them in a whirl. Baskets and boxes were dragged forth to receive the platters and remains of their meagre feast. In an instant the ground was cleared, and the three ladies had taken their departure to the chaise, which was set apart for their use. The men were already climbing into the house on wheels, when Binet turned to Andre-Louis. “We part here, sir,” said he, dramatically, “the richer by your acquaintance; your debtors and your friends.” He put forth his podgy hand. Slowly Andre-Louis took it in his own. He had been thinking swiftly in the last few moments. And remembering the safety he had found from his pursuers in the bosom of this company, it occurred to him that nowhere could he be better hidden for the present, until the quest for him should have died down. “Sir,” he said, “the indebtedness is on my side. It is not every day one has the felicity to sit down with so illustrious and engaging a company.” Binet’s little eyes peered suspiciously at the young man, in quest of irony. He found nothing but candour and simple good faith. “I part from you reluctantly,” Andre-Louis continued. “The more reluctantly since I do not perceive the absolute necessity for parting.” “How?” quoth Binet, frowning, and slowly withdrawing the hand which the other had already retained rather longer than was necessary. “Thus,” Andre-Louis explained himself. “You may set me down as a sort of knight of rueful countenance in quest of adventure, with no fixed purpose in life at present. You will not marvel that what I have seen of yourself and your distinguished troupe should inspire me to desire your better acquaintance. On your side you tell me that you are in need of some one to replace your Figaro--your Felicien, I think you called him. Whilst it may be presumptuous of me to hope that I could discharge an office so varied and so onerous...” “You are indulging that acrid humour of yours again, my friend,” Binet interrupted him. “Excepting for that,” he added, slowly, meditatively, his little eyes screwed up, “we might discuss this proposal that you seem to be making.” “Alas! we can except nothing. If you take me, you take me as I am. What else is possible? As for this humour--such as it is--which you decry, you might turn it to profitable account.” “How so?” “In several ways. I might, for instance, teach Leandre to make love.” Pantaloon burst into laughter. “You do not lack confidence in your powers. Modesty does not afflict you.”