He did not know this voice, and the noise of a bell-rope hastily pulled, in a fit of manifest anger, made him quicken his steps, as if he instinctively felt that the duchess was in danger.
In the shadow of a dull December evening, the house, with its disordered appearance that resembled a sacking, assumed a sinister aspect. José suddenly felt a sentiment of anguish.
He quickly reached the salon, where Marianne was in a robe de chambre of black satin, and was standing near the chimney with an expression of anger in her eyes, holding the bell-rope, whose iron chain had struck against the wall.
Before her stood a young man with a heavy moustache, his hat tilted over his ear, whom Monsieur de Rosas did not know.
His manner was insolent and he looked thick-set in his black, close-buttoned frock-coat. His style was vulgar, and, with his hands in his pockets, he appeared both low and threatening.
Marianne rang for a servant. She was flushed with rage. She became livid on seeing José.
"What is the matter, then?" asked Rosas coldly, as he stepped between the duchess and the man.
The man looked at him, took off his hat, and in a loud voice that was itself odoriferous, said:
"You are Monsieur le Duc de Rosas, doubtless?"
"Yes," said José, "and may I know—?"