Paul’s ruddy, frank and smiling face grew pale as Toni said these words. They might mean for him, as well as for Toni, a decree of doom, and, like Toni, he was so happy that the thought he should be torn away from it all seemed the more cruel.
“And what did they say and do?” he inquired after a painful pause.
“They were very insulting at first to Denise, but I told her not to notice them, and they wanted to shake hands with me, but I refused.”
“Did you?” cried Paul, in amazement. “Is it possible that you didn’t act like a poltroon and shake hands with them and do whatever they asked you to do?”
This was no sarcasm on Paul’s part, but a plain expression of what he expected Toni would do, and Toni was not at all offended at this imputation on his courage and good sense.
“Yes,” he said, “I acted the man with them. I never did it before, but I did more than that—I called the guard, who made them go into another carriage.”
Paul gazed at Toni with wide-eyed surprise. Here was the most astonishing thing that ever happened—Toni actually showing a little courage with these men.
“I can hardly believe it is you, Toni, standing before me. If you had shown the same spirit all the time, you would not now live in dread about that Delorme affair.”
“Perhaps not,” sighed poor Toni, “but you know how I always was, Paul.”