Guebhard's voice was becoming thick under the influence of the fiery raki, and he sat for half-a-minute glaring at Cecil in a curious half-defiant and half-stolid manner, especially when the latter was not looking at him.
'At all events,' he said bluntly, 'General Tchernaieff expects you to report yourself in due course at Alexinatz.'
'Did he send you to me with this message?'
'No.'
'Then I require no advice from you, sir, as to any course I may choose to adopt.'
Guebhard's eyes glittered like those of a rattlesnake beneath their half-closed lids, and Cecil began to eye him back steadily and sternly.
'Captain Guebhard,' said he, 'to recur to the first matter in hand, the rumours at the cafane, what is your peculiar interest in the matter?'
'What matter?' stammered Guebhard.
'My intimacy—friendship—what you will, with the sister of Count Palenka?'
'Simply that I love her!' exclaimed Guebhard abruptly, with all the impulse of his really passionate nature; 'that I love her, and will brook no rival!'