Olivier Raymond, who had marvelled greatly at the baron's presence before, became decidedly uneasy on hearing this request.
"M. le Baron de la Rochaiguë has the floor," responded M. de Maillefort, smiling.
"In heaven's name, what business has that man here?" Olivier whispered to his friend.
"I haven't the slightest idea, upon my word," replied the young duke, with the most innocent air imaginable, "but if we listen we shall soon find out, I suppose."
The baron cleared his throat, slipped his left hand in the bosom of his coat, and said, in his most impressive tones:
"In behalf of certain interests that have been entrusted to me, I beg M. Olivier Raymond to be good enough to answer a few questions I should like to put to him."
"I am at your orders, monsieur," replied Olivier, more and more astonished.
"In that case, I have the honour to ask M. Olivier Raymond if I did not recently offer him,—being empowered, authorised, and commissioned to do so in the capacity of Mlle. de Beaumesnil's guardian,—if I did not offer him, I repeat, the hand of my ward, Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"
"Monsieur," replied Olivier, who was evidently quite as much incensed as embarrassed by this question put to him in the presence of several entire strangers,—"monsieur, I fail to see either the necessity or the propriety of the question you just addressed to me."
"I am, nevertheless, obliged to appeal to the well-known honesty, frankness, and sincerity of the honourable witness," said the marquis, solemnly, "and adjure him to answer this question: Did I, or did I not, offer him the hand of my ward, Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"