“You laugh, fools!” cried the irate old man, rising. “Yes, come and laugh within reach of my arm.”
So saying, he brandished a thick stick with a white china handle, which he used to guide himself, thereby nearly knocking over a candelabrum on the dinner-table upon Madame Minard’s head.
“You are mistaken, monsieur,” cried Brigitte, springing forward and seizing his arm. “Monsieur Felix is not here. He will probably come later to a reception we are about to give; but at present he has not arrived.”
“They don’t begin early, your receptions,” said the old man; “it is past eight o’clock. Well, as Monsieur Felix is coming later, you must allow me to wait for him. I believe you were eating your dinners; don’t let me disturb you.”
And he went back peaceably to his chair.
“As you permit it, monsieur,” said Brigitte, “we will continue, or, I should say, finish dinner, for we are now at the dessert. May I offer you anything,—a glass of champagne and a biscuit?”
“I am very willing, madame,” replied the intruder. “No one ever refuses champagne, and I am always ready to eat between my meals; but you dine very late.”
A place was made for him at table between Colleville and Mademoiselle Minard, and the former made it his business to fill the glass of his new neighbor, before whom was placed a dish of small cakes.
“Monsieur,” said la Peyrade in a cajoling tone, “you saw how surprised we were to hear you complain of Monsieur Felix Phellion,—so amiable, so inoffensive a young man. What has he done to you, that you should feel so angry with him?”
With his mouth full of cakes, which he was engulfing in quantities that made Brigitte uneasy, the professor made a sign that he would soon answer; then, having mistaken his glass and swallowed the contents of Colleville’s, he replied:—