“Don’t make any mistake.”
“We shan’t make any mistake, chief. You know that we’re not novices. And that we’ll stand by you to a man,” said Sauvinoux.
“Even against Bregeac?”
“Rather.”
“Right. Give me the bottle, Tony.”
He took the bottle, or rather the cardboard case which held it, and went briskly up the stairs, assured that his orders would be obeyed, and entered the study out of which he had been so ignominiously turned six months before, with the air of a master. What a victory for him! And with what an insolence did he make his triumph plain! He walked round the study, with his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, looking at the photographs which hung upon the wall, photographs of Aurelie, as a baby, a little girl, and a young girl.
Bregeac snapped: “Try to behave yourself, Marescal.”
At once Marescal put him in his place.
“It’s no use, Bregeac; shut up!” he said. “Your weakness is that you don’t know the weapons I hold against Mademoiselle, and consequently against you. Perhaps, when you do know them, you’ll realize that it’s your duty to do as you’re told.”
Facing one another, drawn to their full height, the two enemies tried to stare one another down. Their hate for one another, springing from opposing ambitions, [[201]]warring instincts, and above all from a rivalry in love that all these other factors made more bitter, was equal. Beside them Aurelie waited, sitting upright on her chair.