"Nobody spoke to you," said Dubourg; "try not to be too insolent, or you may be sorry for it."
"Oho! there's one of 'em who means to show his teeth!"
"For heaven's sake, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, putting his nose in at the door, "don't let this go any further! These gentlemen certainly have no intention of——"
"Hallo! he's a baron!" exclaimed another of the peddlers; "I took him for a Swiss liniment-maker, with his silk handkerchief across his breast."
"Did you see their carriage?" said a third; "it's an old shack I wouldn't put my donkey in!"
"The wretches! to talk so about King Stanislas's berlin!" said Ménard; but he made the remark in such a low tone that no one suspected that he had spoken.
"Once more, hold your peace!" said Dubourg, "or we'll teach you whom you have to deal with."
"Indeed!" said the peddlers, brandishing their cudgels; "perhaps we might teach you something more."
Frédéric, who had been silent thus far, took a pair of pistols from his pocket, and, walking toward the table at which the four men were seated, he said calmly:
"Messieurs, whatever may be the titles we bear, we are men, and we are quite able to prove it; we are not accustomed to using clubs, but here is something that will make matters even between us. Everyone knows how to fire a pistol. Which of you would like to begin with me?"