"I cannot tell you before all these Iagos," said the Brazilian.
Carabine understood him to say magots (baboons).
"Well, well, say no more!" she replied, smiling. "Do not make yourself a laughing-stock for all the wittiest men in Paris; come to my house, we will talk it over."
Montes was crushed. "Proofs," he stammered, "consider—"
"Only too many," replied Carabine; "and if the mere suspicion hits you so hard, I fear for your reason."
"Is this creature obstinate, I ask you? He is worse than the late lamented King of Holland!—I say, Lousteau, Bixiou, Massol, all the crew of you, are you not invited to breakfast with Madame Marneffe the day after to-morrow?" said Leon de Lora.
"Ya," said du Tillet; "I have the honor of assuring you, Baron, that if you had by any chance thought of marrying Madame Marneffe, you are thrown out like a bill in Parliament, beaten by a blackball called Crevel. My friend, my old comrade Crevel, has eighty thousand francs a year; and you, I suppose, did not show such a good hand, for if you had, you, I imagine, would have been preferred."
Montes listened with a half-absent, half-smiling expression, which struck them all with terror.
At this moment the head-waiter came to whisper to Carabine that a lady, a relation of hers, was in the drawing-room and wished to speak to her.
Carabine rose and went out to find Madame Nourrisson, decently veiled with black lace.