"Shut the door," said he, "and say your say."
Again d'Albignac successfully fought his own fury.
"A matter of delicacy, as I said, my dear sir.... Mademoiselle de Wellenshausen is, you are aware, now at the palace?"
"Are you speaking of Countess Waldorff-Kielmansegg?" put in Steven, threatening.
"Immaterial, now!" deprecated the other. "The marriage, I understand, is regretted on both sides. Your signature here, and we see to the rest."
Steven listened with outward calmness.
"We?" echoed he. "What have you to say to this, Colonel d'Albignac?"
It is not always by weight of hand or stroke of sword that man can have his sweetest vengeance upon man. D'Albignac, as he replied, knew that he was at last paying off scores:
"The King," he said—"my King, His Majesty Jerome, takes an interest in the lady."
Jerome...! This then explained all, explained the non-appearance of the card, the hostile reception at the palace. Sidonia, the child who had lain in his arms, and Jerome! Steven felt suddenly as if the clasps of his cloak were strangling him. He tore them apart, falling back two or three steps, that he might fling the burden on the bed. After that first flaming revelation there came to him a deadly calmness. He did not in the least know what he was about to do; it was quite possible that he might have to execute justice upon Jerome's dog before reaching Jerome himself; in any case, he must have his limbs free. The grating voice went on: