Charny bowed; then, turning to Reteau, said:
“You confess, then, that you have published against the queen the playful little tale, as you call it, which appeared this morning in your paper?”
“Monsieur, it is not against the queen.”
“Good! it only wanted that.”
“You are very patient, sir!” cried Philippe, who was boiling with rage outside the gate.
“Oh, be easy, sir,” replied Charny; “he shall lose nothing by waiting.”
“Yes,” murmured Philippe; “but I also am waiting.”
Charny turned again to Reteau. “Etteniotna is Antoinette transposed—oh, do not lie, sir, or instead of beating, or simply killing you, I shall burn you alive! But tell me if you are the sole author of this?”
“I am not an informer,” said Reteau.
“Very well; that means that you have an accomplice; and, first, the man who bought a thousand copies of this infamy, the Count de Cagliostro; but he shall pay for his share, when you have paid for yours.”