Whereupon the Signor responded, also under his breath, "You're no gentleman." To this assertion, M. Bartin answered, with masterly irony, "And you are a gentleman, now, a'n't you?"
Up to this point the controversy had been pleasantly conducted in whispers, and was unnoticed by the bystanders; but M. Bartin's last insinuation had the strange effect of maddening the Signor still more. He lost his self-control, and said, in an audible voice:
"You're only a scraper of catgut, anyhow."
M. Bartin, also oblivious of the proprieties, retorted, louder still:
"And what are you but an infernal screech owl?"
Cries of "Hallo!" "What's the row?" "Hush!" and "For shame!" rose from all parts of the room, and the two musical gentlemen, conscious that they had grossly misconducted themselves, stepped back a yard from each other, and were immediately surrounded by several friends, and kindly told that they were a pair of fools.
Mrs. Slapman and Overtop rushed to the spot. The latter measured the two combatants with his eye, to see if he could safely undertake to pitch both, or either of them, out of the room, if requested so to do by the widow, and concluded that he could not.
Mrs. Slapman was much embarrassed by this painful outbreak. It was only three weeks ago that M. Bartin had dedicated a new quadrille to her; and but a fortnight since Signor Mancussi had sung four operatic airs gratuitously at one of her musical and dramatic soirées. But respect for herself and for her guests--especially for Mr. Overtop, of whose talents she had formed an exalted opinion--pointed out her path of duty, and she followed it. She stepped between the two disputants, and cast a look of surprise and regret at each.
"I was hasty," said Signor Mancussi.
"And I was too impulsive," said M. Bartin.