He seized Martial by the arm, and with irresistible power whirled him twice around, then threw him more than ten feet, exclaiming:
“This last is too much, Marquis de Sairmeuse!”
Maurice’s attitude was so threatening that Martial fully expected another attack. The violence of the shock had thrown him down upon one knee; without rising, he lifted his gun, ready to take aim.
It was not from anything like cowardice on the part of the Marquis de Sairmeuse that he decided to fire upon an unarmed foe; but the affront which he had received was so deadly and so ignoble in his opinion, that he would have shot Maurice like a dog, rather than feel the weight of his finger upon him again.
This explosion of anger from Maurice Marie-Anne had been expecting and hoping for every moment.
She was even more inexperienced than her lover; but she was a woman, and could not fail to understand the meaning of the young marquis.
He was evidently “paying his court to her.” And with what intentions! It was only too easy to divine.
Her agitation, while the marquis spoke in a more and more tender voice, changed first to stupor, then to indignation, as she realized his marvellous audacity.
After that, how could she help blessing the violence which put an end to a situation which was so insulting for her, and so humiliating for Maurice?
An ordinary woman would have thrown herself between the two men who were ready to kill each other. Marie-Anne did not move a muscle.