"Go and tell him at once," said M. de Lugeac, "that Monsieur le Marquis de Belle-Isle and myself will have to trouble him for about two minutes."
Then as Achille seemed to be hesitating—for he did not move with any alacrity and his well-kept hand stroked his smooth, heavy chin—M. de Belle-Isle added more loudly:
"Go knave! and at once. . . . Par le diable, man! . . . how dare you hesitate?"
Indeed Monsieur Achille dared do that no longer. M. le Marquis de Belle-Isle was not a gentleman to be trifled with so he shrugged his majestic shoulders, and rubbed his hands together in token that the affair had passed out of their keeping, and that he no longer held himself responsible for any unpleasant consequences which might accrue from such unparalleled intrusion.
He strode with becoming majesty to the study door, his broad, straight back emphasising the protest of his whole attitude. Once more he knocked, but more loudly, less diffidently than before.
The voice from within queried with marked impatience:
"What is it now?"
"An urgent call, Monsieur le Marquis!" replied Achille in a firm voice.
"I can see no one. I am busy," said the voice from within.
M. de Belle-Isle felt that this little scene was not quite dignified; neither he nor M. de Lugeac was accustomed to stand behind a lacquey's back, parleying with a man through closed doors: therefore when Monsieur Achille turned to him now with a look which strove to indicate respectfully but firmly that the incident was closed, he pushed him roughly aside and himself called loudly: