“I will see you again, my friend. At a later day you will regret that you have not heeded my counsel. Do not forget, however, that I am always ready to resume my course of instruction.”
“Thank you,” responded Eusebe. “Your goodness touches me nearly, and——” The remainder of the sentence was lost in a sudden murmur.
Dropping the hand of his friend, young Martin passed rapidly on to where a group of young men were seated before the door of the Café Tortoni.
“What is the matter?” asked Daniel, who followed him.
“Do you not hear?” said Eusebe, apparently agitated.
“Yes,” said one of the young men; “Adéonne is a fascinating creature. During the week that I have enjoyed her acquaintance, I have been able to comprehend the desperate love that has inspired that old fool Fontournay.”
“Did you say, monsieur,” demanded Eusebe, pale and trembling, “that you have lived with Adéonne for a week?”
“I have said what I pleased,” haughtily responded the young man. “I do not know that I am accountable to you for what I say.”
“I ask nothing of you,” rejoined Eusebe. “I only wish you to repeat your words, in order that I may tell you that you lie. If you do not repeat your words, it is of no consequence. I say that you have lied.”