"Have you lost your senses, Saint-Clair? You forget to whom you are talking."
"I know quite well that I am talking to a puppy."
"Saint-Clair!... you must be mad, I think.... Listen to me. To-morrow you will either apologise to me, or you will account for your insolent conduct."
"To-morrow, then, sir—"
Thémines stopped his horse; Saint-Clair pushed his on, and very soon disappeared among the trees.
He was calmer now. He was silly enough to believe in presentiments. He felt sure he would be killed on the morrow, and that would be a suitable ending to his condition. Only one more day of anxieties and torments to endure. He went home and sent a note by his servant to Colonel Beaujeu. He wrote several letters, after which he dined with a good appetite, and was promptly at the little garden gate by 8.30.
"What is the matter with you to-day, Auguste?" said the Countess. "You are unusually lively, and yet your gaiety does not move me to laugh. Last night you were just a trifle dull, and I was the gay one! We have changed parts to-day. I have a racking headache."
"Dear one, I admit it. Yes, I was very tedious yesterday, but to-day I have been out, I took exercise, and I feel quite excited."
"On the other hand, I overslept myself this morning, and rose late. I had bad dreams."