Lafcadio awaited the end of this outburst with astonishment; he was a little irritated; it seemed to him that Julius had no right to evade him in this manner.
“I thought that was the very thing you....”
“Be quiet! You know nothing about it. And here am I wasting my time with you, spinning these ridiculous fancies!.... Quick! my stick! my hat!”
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“To inform the police, of course!”
Lafcadio placed himself in front of the door.
“First of all, explain,” said he imperatively. “Upon my soul, anyone would think you had gone mad.”
“It was just now that I was mad.... Oh, poor Fleurissoire! Oh, unfortunate friend! Luckless, saintly victim! His death just comes in time to cut me short in a career of irreverence—of blasphemy. His sacrifice has brought me to reason. And to think that I laughed at him!”
He had again begun to pace up and down the room; suddenly he stopped and laying his hat and stick beside the scent bottle on the table, he planted himself in front of Lafcadio:
“Do you want to know why the ruffian murdered him?”