"Do you know my daughter Adolphine, monsieur?" inquired Monsieur Gerbault, in surprise.
"Yes, monsieur; I had the pleasure of seeing mademoiselle on the day of your other daughter's wedding. I dined at Deffieux's that day, with someone who is not a stranger to you."
"Monsieur is a friend of Gustave," interposed Adolphine, hastily. Monsieur Gerbault frowned slightly, for he remembered being told that it was with a friend of Gustave that his son-in-law had fought a duel on the day after his wedding; however, he confined himself to saying, in rather a sharp tone:
"I am waiting for monsieur to be good enough to let us know the object of his visit."
The decidedly unamiable manner in which Monsieur Gerbault said these words began to irritate Cherami, who threw himself back in his chair, crying:
"Faith! my dear monsieur, if you think I came here to amuse myself, you're most miserably mistaken; my errand isn't a very agreeable one, at best."
"Monsieur, I beg you to——"
"Ah! but, you see, you assumed an air which—look you! that air of yours doesn't suit me at all, and if you were not this charming young lady's father, I'd have demanded satisfaction before this."
"Oh! monsieur, for heaven's sake!" exclaimed Adolphine, clasping her hands; "father didn't mean to offend you."
"Your father looked like a bulldog, mademoiselle, when you said that I was a friend of Gustave. Why was that? am I a friend to be despised, I pray to know? Friends like me, always ready to risk their lives in order to prove their devotion, don't grow on every bush, I beg you to believe. But here I am losing my temper, and I am wrong. I will tell you in a word what brings me here; it's no use to put on gloves. I come to inform you of the death of a young man of your acquaintance."