“Has what?” asked Félicién.
“Nothing,” I hastened to reply. “M. Duplay believes that you knew your foil to be unbuttoned, but I have told him ‘no!’ Come; shake hands, and be friends.”
I held out my hand.
Félicién took it with rather a bad grace.
“There,” said M. Duplay; “you have said adieu! We go our way—you can go yours.”
And he dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
We went our way.
“You see, I was right in coming out with you,” said M. Duplay. “The little scoundrel was waiting there to pick a quarrel with you. He would not be a bad carpenter if he would work, but he thinks the trade beneath him. He loves, and is jealous of Cornelie. One can easily see that, but he is eighteen months younger than she. I don’t think that Cornelie is very fond of him; but you have given a lesson to M. Veto, and you have done well.”
I did not reply, as I agreed in every respect with M. Duplay.
As the clock struck five, we arrived at the Rue Grange Batélière. We found M. Drouet punctual. I introduced M. Duplay, whom he already knew through my speaking of him.