Pierre's face was growing white in a circle about his mouth. He stepped to Ronsard's desk, took out a revolver, a pearl and silver toy, and slammed it on the table between himself and Haganè.
"Go, your Excellency!" he said, with eyes on Ronsard. "I, too, desire private speech with him."
"Pierre! Pierre! remember France," cried Count Ronsard.
Haganè bowed to the speaker.
As Ronsard hesitated at the door, Mouquin pushed it open cautiously and brought in the coffee. "Not yet, Excellency," he said. Haganè waved his refusal of a proffered cup. Pierre poured himself three cups in succession, draining quickly each scalding draught.
Haganè bowed again to Ronsard. "Now," he said simply.
"Get out, Mouquin. Remember, Prince, the boy is ill."
"I can take care of myself," Pierre said, his boyish head thrown back.
Left alone the two men faced each other. Pierre leaned with one delicate hand on the table. Nervously exalted and chafed by silence he hurled words at his sombre opponent.
"If your time is really valuable you waste it, my Lord. I advise you to inquire elsewhere."