"Oh! Monsieur le Comte . . ." protested Durand.
"Well! how much more?" said the Comte impatiently.
"What does M. le Comte desire?"
"To speak with Madame la Marquise quite alone."
"Heu! . . . heu! . . . it is difficult. . . ."
But Gaston de Stainville's stock of patience was running low. He never had a great deal. With a violent oath he seized the little man by the collar.
"Two louis, you knave, for getting me that audience now, at once, or my flunkey's stick across your shoulders if you fool me any longer."
M. Durand apparently was not altogether unprepared for this outburst: perhaps his peculiar position had often subjected him to similar onslaughts on the part of irate and aristocratic supplicants. Anyway, he did not seem at all disturbed, and, as soon as the Comte's grip on his collar relaxed, he readjusted his coat and his cravat, and holding out his thin hand, he said meekly:
"The two louis I pray you, Monsieur le Comte. And," he added, when Gaston, with another oath, finally placed the two gold pieces on the meagre palm, "will you deign to follow me?"
He led the way through the large folding doors and thence along the enfilade of gorgeous reception rooms, the corridors, landings and staircase which Lydie herself had traversed just now. Gaston de Stainville followed him at a close distance, acknowledging with a curt nod here and there the respectful salutations of the many lackeys whom he passed.