De Marsanne, while endeavouring to enjoy himself and entertain his guests, was, to my thinking, more serious than usual, and seemed impatient at D’Egville’s absence, for whose coming we now waited supper.
‘I should not wonder if he was lost in the deep mud of those cross-roads,’ said Coigny.
‘Or perhaps he has fallen into the Republic,’ said Rochefoucauld; ‘it’s the only thing dirtier that I know of.’
‘Monsieur forgets that I wear its cloth,’ said I, in a low whisper to him; and low as it was, De Marsanne overheard it.
‘Yes, Charles,’ cried he, ‘you must apologise, and on the spot, for the rudeness.’
Rochefoucauld reddened and hesitated.
‘I insist, sir,’ cried De Marsanne, with a tone of superiority I had never seen him assume before.
‘Perhaps,’ said he, with a half-sneer, ‘Monsieur de Tiernay might refuse to accept my excuses.’
‘In that case, sir,’ interposed De Marsanne, ‘the quarrel will become mine, for he is my guest, and lives here under the safeguard of my honour.’
Rochefoucauld bowed submissively, and with the air of a man severely but justly rebuked; and then advancing to me said, ‘I beg to tender you my apology, monsieur, for an expression which should never have been uttered by me in your presence.’