The marquis started, and his brow darkened. "Sir," said he, "that is the head of the table—the place of the Marchioness Strozzi."
"I know it," was the reply, "and, as soon as she makes her appearance, I will give it up.—Martino, serve the soup; I am hungry." So saying, he tossed the bouquet to the valet, and poured out some wine.
At this, Strozzi sprang up, and, staring at Barbesieur, with eyes that glowed like the orbs of a wild animal—"Sir," exclaimed he, "you are an insolent intruder!"
"I know it," cried Barbesieur—"and what next?"
The marquis gazed in bewilderment at the threatening face of his self-invited guest, and then, slowly turning around, prepared to leave the room. Barbesieur rose and followed him.
At the door of his cabinet he stopped and cried out:
"Let the marshal of the household see to it that no one intrudes upon my privacy!"
And, with a gesture of offended dignity, he entered the room. Barbesieur, however, was immediately behind him, and they had no sooner crossed the threshold than he locked the door, and put the key in his pocket.
"Now, I have him," thought he, "and I shall begin my experiments."
"Sir," said Strozzi, alarmed, "why do you persecute me?"