“Indeed!” said he; but this time the word was uttered in a faint voice, while a pallor that was almost lividness colored his dark features.
“She murmurs a name; I almost caught it,” exclaimed I, as if carried away by the rapt excitement of prophecy. “Yes! I hear it now perfectly,—the name is Alexis!”
A fearful oath burst from the Chevalier, and with a bound lie sprung to his feet, and dashed his closed fists against his brow. “Away with your jugglery, have done with your miserable cheat, sir,—that can only terrify women and children. Speak out like a man: who are you, and what are you?”
“What means this outrage, sir? How have you forgotten yourself so far as to use this language to me?” said I, throwing back the mantle and standing full before him.
“Let us have no more acting, sir, whether it be as prophet or bully,” said he, sternly. “You affect to know me, who I am, and whence I have come. Make the game equal between us, or it may be worse for you.”
“You threaten me, then,” said I, calmly.
“I do,” was the answer.
“It is therefore open war between us?”
“I never said so,” replied he, with a most cutting irony of manner; “but whatever secret malice can do,—and you shall soon know what it means,—I pledge myself you will not find yourself forgotten.”
“Agreed, then; now leave me, sir.”