“You have just committed a gross insult!”
“I, my lord doge?”
“Yes, you! What do you mean by telling this abominable story in this house?”
“Abominable! You may call it abominable; but I, who composed it, have a different opinion of it.”
“Enough, monsieur; you will at least have the courage to acknowledge that your performance was a vile insinuation against Mme. Fauvel?”
The clown stood with his head thrown back, and mouth wide open, as if astounded at what he heard.
But anyone who knew him would have seen his bright black eyes sparkling with malicious satisfaction.
“Bless my heart!” he cried, as if speaking to himself. “This is the strangest thing I ever heard of! How can my drama of the Mandarine Li-Fo have any reference to Mme. Fauvel, whom I don’t know from Adam or Eve? I can’t think how the resemblance——unless——but no, that is impossible.”
“Do you pretend,” said M. de Clameran, “to be ignorant of M. Fauvel’s misfortune?”
The clown looked very innocent, and asked: