To be thus treated, he, the successful man, in presence of this young girl, whom, a moment before, he was crushing with his impudent opulence, no, M. Costeclar could not stand it. Losing completely his head,
“You should have let me know, then,” he exclaimed, “that she was your mistress.”
Something like a flame passed over M. de Tregars’ face. His eyes flashed. Rising in all the height of his wrath, which broke out terrible at last,
“Ah, you scoundrel!” he exclaimed.
M. Costeclar threw himself suddenly to one side.
“Sir!”
But at one bound M. de Tregars had caught him.
“On your knees!” he cried.
And, seizing him by the collar with an iron grip, he lifted him clear off the floor, and then threw him down violently upon both knees.
“Speak!” he commanded. “Repeat,—‘Mademoiselle’”