“Seated themselves directly opposite the newly married pair.”
“How do you do, comrade?” he said.
For answer, Toni folded his arms and looked at the extended paw with disgust.
“No, I thank you,” he replied, in a voice as steady as if he were managing a vicious brute of a horse. “Denise, don’t look at them, my dear,” and he motioned her to sit with him in the furthest corner of the carriage.
Denise surmised who these two individuals were, but said nothing, only averting her eyes from them. Nicolas then persisted in trying to converse.
“We are back from Algiers,” he remarked impressively.
“It doesn’t require a genius to know that,” Toni answered tartly. “It’s a great pity you were not kept there for ever.”
He felt astonished at his own boldness in saying this, and the devil of fear, taking on a new guise, made him afraid of his own boldness. But, at all events, he felt that there was no danger of his betraying himself then before Denise. Nicolas and Pierre continued to wink and make remarks, evidently directed at Denise. Toni stood it quietly, but the first time the guard passed he spoke to him.
“These two fellows,” he said, “are impertinent to my wife. At the first station I would thank you to put them in another carriage.”
The guard had seen the fine style in which Toni had driven to the station with his bride, and also respected Toni’s smart corporal’s uniform, so he bowed politely and said, “Certainly,” and the next station being reached in two minutes, Toni had the satisfaction of seeing his two friends unceremoniously hauled out and thrust into another carriage which was before nearly full. As they went out Pierre laughed—a laugh terrible in Toni’s ears.