"Lord Linden," replied Maurice, unable to endure this impertinence any longer, "once more I beg to inform you that you are using language to which I cannot listen. I will not permit any man to speak of that lady in the manner which you have chosen to employ. I shall consider it a personal insult if you persist."
"Indeed! Have matters gone so far? Really, I did not suspect that the ground was already occupied, and that the lady whose mantua-making and millinery are the admiration of all Washington, had a protector by whom her less favored acquaintances must expect to be taken to task."
These words were spoken in a tone sufficiently caustic to render their meaning unmistakable.
"She has protectors, my lord,—legal protectors,—who are ready to prove their right to defend her," replied Maurice, with severity, and rising as he spoke.
All considerations of prudence,—the wishes of Madeleine and of his family,—were forgotten at the moment: she was insulted, and he was there to defend her; that was all he remembered.
Lord Linden, though he could not but be struck by the tone and manner of the viscount, echoed the words, "The right?"
"Yes, the right, as well as the might. Mademoiselle Melanie, the mantua-maker, is in reality Mademoiselle Madeleine Melanie de Gramont, the daughter of the late Duke de Gramont, and the second cousin of my father, Count Tristan de Gramont."
"Good heavens! of what gross stupidity I have been guilty! How shall I ever obtain your pardon?"
Without answering this question, Maurice went on.