Do not make use of it again, I pray you; we will see whether under a new name I may not succeed in escaping from the ill fortune that has thus far pursued me as the Baron de Sigognac.
Henceforth then I take poor Matamore's place, and my name is Captain Fracasse." "Bravo! Vive Captain Fracasse!" cried they all, with enthusiasm, "may applause greet and follow him wherever he goes." This sudden move on de Sigognac's part, at which the comedians were greatly astonished, as well as deeply touched, was not so unpremeditated as it seemed; he had been thinking about it for some time.

He blushed at the idea of being a mere parasite, living upon the bounty of these honest players--who shared all they had with him so generously, and without ever making him feel, for a moment, that he was under any obligation to them, but--rather that he was conferring an honour upon them--he deemed it less unworthy a gentleman to appear upon the stage and do his part towards filling the common purse than to be their pensioner in idleness; and after all, there was no disgrace in becoming an actor.

The idea of quitting them and going back to Sigognac had indeed presented itself to his mind, but he had instantly repulsed it as base and cowardly--it is not in the hour of danger and disaster that the true soldier retires from the ranks.

Besides, if he had wished to go ever so much, his love for Isabelle would have kept him near her; and then, though he was not given to day-dreams, he yet fancied that wonderful adventures, sudden changes, and strokes of good fortune might possibly be awaiting him in the mysterious future, into which he fain would peer, and he would inevitably lose the chance of them all if he returned to his ruinous chateau.
Everything being thus satisfactorily arranged, the old horse was harnessed up again, and the chariot moved slowly forward on its way.
Their good meal had revived everybody's drooping spirits, and they all, excepting the duenna and Serafina, who never walked if they could possibly help it, trudged cheerily along, laughing and talking as they went.
Isabelle had taken de Sigognac's offered arm, and leaned on it proudly, glancing furtively up into his face, whenever he was looking away from her, with eyes full of tenderness and loving admiration, never suspecting, in her modesty, that it was for love of her that he had decided to turn actor--a thing so revolting, as she knew, to his pride as a gentleman.

He was a hero in her eyes, and though she wished to reproach him for his hasty action, which she would have prevented if she could, she had not the heart to find fault with him for his noble devotion to the common cause after all.