His voice hardened again, the furrows appeared on his forehead.
“Now you are lying,” said Artois.
The Marchesino got up and stood in front of Artois. The ugly, cat-like look had come into his face, changing it from its usual boyish impudence to a hardness that suggested age. At that moment he looked much older than he was.
“Be careful, Emilio!” he said. “I am Neapolitan, and I do not allow myself to be insulted.”
His gray eyes contracted.
“You did not mean to get lost with the Signorina?” said Artois.
“One leaves such things to destiny.”
“Destiny! Well, to-night it is your destiny to go out of the Signorina’s life forever.”
“How dare you command me? How dare you speak for these ladies?”
Suddenly Artois went quite white, and laid his hand on the Marchesino’s arm.