"Gentlemen," said he, "sometimes one is forced to condescend to be affronted when dealing with people too low to reach their mark. I, however, cannot condescend to stoop to the gutters where such epithets are gathered up as you throw on me."
"These epithets," said D'Harcourt, "are not addressed merely by three men to Count Monte-Leone. All Paris does so."
"Public rumor," interrupted Von Apsberg, "accuses you of having betrayed A——, Ober, B——, and our other friends."
"Public rumor!" exclaimed the Count, whose eyes seemed ready to spring from his head.
"Public rumor says that Count Monte-Leone, ruined and desperate, obtains the money he now spends, most disgracefully. He has sold his brethren to enable him to continue his luxury."
The Count uttered an exclamation of horror.
"Count Monte-Leone, proscribed two months ago in France, owes the right of remaining in the realm to the fact that he is in communication with the French police, whose agent he is."
"Are you done?" said Monte-Leone, sarcastically.
"Count Monte-Leone has sold the secrets of his brethren in every land, and filled the prisons of France, Spain, and Italy, with his victims."
"Then," said Monte-Leone, with a far different accent from what might have been expected from an injured man or discovered criminal, for his tone was almost joyous, "this is the explanation of the obscurity amid which I have wandered. No, it is impossible! Paris may speak thus, but you do not! You do not think me such a being?"