"Perhaps that may be grief at losing me."
"Oho! is she——?"
"Yes, my dear fellow, she's an old flame of mine; she's still a——"
I did not allow Saint-Bergame to complete his sentence; if I had not recognized his voice, I should have guessed his identity from his language. I grasped his arm, and said to him in an undertone:
"Monsieur, the man who has been a woman's lover and tells of it is a conceited ass; the man who insults her in public is a coward!"
Saint-Bergame turned, eyed me from head to foot with an insolent air, and rejoined in a loud voice:
"Ah! you constitute yourself that lady's champion, do you? To be sure, it's your turn now."
I could not contain my wrath; I struck him in the face. Saint-Bergame tried to rush at me; but our quarrel had attracted general attention; someone threw himself between us, and I noticed then for the first time that Saint-Bergame's companion was Fouvenard.
We left the hall; several persons tried to adjust our difficulty, but I satisfied them that their mediation was useless, and that we knew perfectly well how the affair must end. I joined Saint-Bergame, who, with Fouvenard, awaited me in a corner of the vestibule. The latter stared at me in amazement, murmuring:
"What! is it you? What is this quarrel about?"