“That order could not be meant for me, Monsieur,” insisted Boleslas. “Monsieur Maitland has made an appointment with me, with Madame Steno, in order to show us Alba’s portrait.”
“It is no order,” replied Florent. “I repeat to you that my brother-in-law has gone out. The studio is closed, and it is impossible for me to undertake to open it to show you the picture, since I have not the key. As for Madame and Mademoiselle Steno, they have not been here for several days; the sittings have been interrupted.”
“What is still more extraordinary, Monsieur,” replied the other, “is that I saw them with my own eyes, five minutes ago, enter this house and I, too, saw their carriage drive away.”.... He felt his anger increase and direct itself altogether against the watch-dog so suddenly raised upon the threshold of his rival’s house.
Florent, on his part, had begun to lose patience. He had within him the violent irritability of the negro blood, which he did not acknowledge, but which slightly tinted his complexion. The manner of Madame Steno’s former lover seemed to him so outrageous that he replied very dryly, as he opened the door, in order to oblige the caller to leave:
“You are mistaken,—Monsieur, that is all.”
“You are aware, Monsieur,” replied Boleslas, “of the fact that you just addressed me in a tone which is not the one which I have a right to expect from you.... When one charges one’s self with a certain business, it is at least necessary to introduce a little form.”
“And I, Monsieur,” replied Chapron, “would be very much obliged to you if, when you address me, you would not do so in enigmas. I do not know what you mean by ‘a certain business,’ but I know that it is unbefitting a gentleman to act as you have acted at the door of a house which is not yours and for reasons that I can not comprehend.”
“You will comprehend them very soon, Monsieur,” said Boleslas, beside himself, “and you have not constituted yourself your brother’s slave without motives.”
He had no sooner uttered that sentence than Florent, incapable any longer of controlling himself, raised his cane with a menacing gesture, which the Polish Count arrested just in time, by seizing it in his right hand. It was the work of a second, and the two men were again face to face, both pale with anger, ready to collar one another rudely, when the sound of a door closing above their heads recalled to them their dignity. The servant descended the stairs. It was Chapron who first regained his self-possession, and he said to Boleslas, in a voice too low to be heard by any one but him:
“No scandal, Monsieur, eh? I shall have the honor of sending two of my friends to you.”