"Oh, Don Roberto, Don Roberto!" his friend protested gently.
"But the shoe—give me the shoe, then, Don Fernando."
"If you will pry into a lady's misfortune," Don Fernando laughed, passing the shoe to his friend's outstretched hand.
"Permit me," said Henderson, snatching the shoe from Roberto's fingers.
"Impertinent dog!"
Roberto sprang back a step with the malediction thrown in his servant's face, as if to be out of reach of violence that he expected to follow it. The leap carried him into the moonlight, where he stood with hand at his sash, feeling for the weapon which, for the occasion, was not there.
"Restore me the shoe! This instant give it back!" he commanded.
"I was sent for it; I will restore it to the owner," Henderson replied, his manner lofty and severe.
"Who commands you?"