Meantime, Scapin, dressed in his freshest and most gaudy costume, had marched into the neighbouring town, carrying his drum; he stationed himself in the large, public square, and made such good play with his drum-sticks that he soon had a curious crowd around him, to whom he made an eloquent address, setting forth in glowing terms the great attractions offered by “the illustrious comedians of Herode’s celebrated troupe,” who, “for this night only,” would delight the public by the representation of that screaming farce, the Rodomontades of Captain Fracasse; to be followed by a “bewitching Moorish dance,” performed by the “incomparable Mlle. Serafina.”  After enlarging brilliantly upon this theme, he added, that as they were “more desirous of glory than profit,” they would be willing to accept provisions of all kinds, instead of coin of the realm, in payment of places, from those who had not the money to spare, and asked them to let all their friends know.  This closing announcement made a great sensation among his attentive listeners, and he marched back to the farm, confident that they would have a goodly number of spectators.  There he found the stage already erected in the barn, and a rehearsal in progress, which was necessary on de Sigognac’s account.

Bellombre was instructing him in various minor details as the play went on, and for a novice he did wonderfully well—­acting with much spirit and grace, showing decided talent, and remarkable aptitude.  But it was very evident that he was greatly annoyed by some portions of the piece, and an angry flush mounted to the roots of his hair at the whacks and cuffs so liberally bestowed upon the doughty captain.

His comrades spared him as much as possible—­feeling that it must be intensely repugnant to him—­but he grew furious in spite of all his efforts to control his temper, and at each fresh attack upon him his flashing eyes and knitted brows betrayed the fierce rage he was in; then, suddenly remembering that his role required a very different expression of countenance, he would pull himself up, and endeavour to imitate that which Matamore had been wont to assume in this character.  Bellombre, who was watching him critically, stopped him a moment, to say:  “You make a great mistake in attempting to suppress your natural emotions; you should take care not to do it, for they produce a capital effect, and you can create a new type of stage bully; when you have gotten accustomed to this sort of thing, and no longer feel this burning indignation, you must feign it.  Strike out in a path of your own, and you will be sure to attain success—­far more so than if you attempt to follow in another’s footsteps.  Fracasse, as you represent him, loves and admires courage, and would fain be able to manifest it—­he is angry with himself for being such an arrant coward.  When free from danger, he dreams of nothing but heroic exploits and superhuman enterprises; but when any actual peril threatens him, his too vivid imagination