The Vicomte uttered a cry of rage, but the other still held him firmly.
"You see," he said, "we do not fight with people whom we do not respect. If you do not understand me, apply to your father for an explanation—he will give it to you. The day may come when you may have an opportunity of killing me—if you can. Now go—return to your shameful pleasures!"
With features convulsed with rage the Vicomte, unable to speak, drew from his pocket a handful of cards, and flung them into the face of the unknown, who started forward, but one of his friends laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"You do not belong to yourself!" he said, warningly.
Talizac disappeared. As he was hurrying on, blind with anger, a voice cried:
"Is this the way you keep your appointments?"
It was the Italian, Fernando de Vellebri. He added, with a wink:
"You ought to have killed that fellow. You know him?"
"Very little."