XXXIV
Denoisel was at Henri Mauperin's. They were sitting by the fire talking and smoking. Suddenly they heard a noise and a discussion in the hall, and, almost at the same time, the room door was opened violently and a man entered abruptly, pushing aside the domestic who was trying to keep him back.
"M. Mauperin de Villacourt?" he demanded.
"That is my name, monsieur," said Henri, rising.
"Well, my name is Boisjorand de Villacourt," and with the back of his hand he gave Henri a blow which made his face bleed. Henri turned as white as the silk scarf he was wearing as a necktie and, with the blood trickling down his face, he bent forward to return the blow, and then, just as suddenly, drew himself up and stretched his hand out towards Denoisel, who stepped forward, folded his arms, and spoke in his calmest tone:
"I think I understand what you mean, sir," he said; "you consider that there is a Villacourt too many. I think so too."
The visitor was visibly embarrassed before the calmness of this man of the world. He took off his hat, which he had kept on his head hitherto, and began to stammer out a few words.
"Will you kindly leave your address with my servant?" said Henri, interrupting him; "I will send round to you to-morrow."