"Well?" said the viscount.
"A man," said the marquis, "of whom we must rid ourselves at any cost, if we wish to enjoy liberty again on this earth. But, patience, there are two of us against him."
"Never fear," said Leoni, "I have not so far forgotten the old customs of the country that I don't know how to clear my path of the man who stands in my way. Except for my devil of a love-affair, which filled my brain, I had a fine chance in Brussels."
"You?" said the marquis; "you never did anything in that line, and you will never have the courage."
"Courage?" cried Leoni, half-rising, with flashing eyes.
"No extravagance," replied the marquis, with that horrifying sang-froid which they all had. "Let us understand each other. You have courage to kill a bear or a wild boar, but you have too many sentimental and philosophical ideas in your head to kill a man."
"That may be," said Leoni, resuming his seat, "but I am not sure."
"You don't mean to play at Palermo, then?" said the viscount.
"To the devil with your gambling! If I could get up a passion for something—hunting, or a horse, or an olive-skinned Calabrian—I would go next summer, and shut myself up in the Abruzzi and pass a few more months forgetting you all."
"Rekindle your passion for Juliette," said the viscount, with a sneer.