"When do you fight Lieutenant Belfort?" he asked, looking me straight in the eye as I handed back to him the empty glass.
"Is it any business of yours?" I said, flushing with anger.
"No, but I wondered why you and Lieutenant Belfort were so eager to quarrel," he replied, his eyes showing no fear of me.
"What damned impertinence is this!" broke out Marcel. "How dare you, a servant, speak in such a manner?"
"I beg your pardon, sir, I spoke hastily, I meant no harm," said the man, suddenly becoming humble, as if frightened by Marcel's heat.
"Then see that hereafter your actions conform better with your intentions," continued Marcel, as we passed out.
"That man is more to be feared than Belfort," I said a little later, speaking the thought that was in my mind.
"Yes, I think so, too," replied Marcel. "Confound him! Those eyes of his look me through, and I have the fancy that he is all the time laughing at us."
But Marcel's ill humor and suspicion lasted less than half a hour, and he was cheerfully humming a love song when he finally jumped into bed.