“Yes,” said the clear voice. “I repeat it is a lie.”
“Monsieur le Vicomte,” Mont Rouge was speaking with an affectation of marked politeness but his voice shook with passion, “I beg you to remember who is responsible for the story. You will withdraw that insult.”
“At half-past six,” André proceeded calmly, “I was at the Fountain of Neptune. The Chevalier de St. Amant was not there. The Marquise de Beau Séjour was not there. The Comte de Mont Rouge will therefore no doubt see fit to withdraw his insult.”
“Where is the Chevalier de St. Amant?” “Have the Chevalier fetched,” suggested two or three.
“No,” said André firmly. “This is not the Chevalier’s affair. The Comte de Mont Rouge can deal with him when and how he pleases. For my part I repeat that the statement about the Marquise de Beau Séjour, for which apparently Monsieur le Comte is responsible, is a lie, and I have proved it.”
“The Vicomte de Nérac talks,” Mout Rouge answered fiercely, “as if his honour had been questioned.”
“Yes, sir, it has until you have withdrawn what you said.”
“And supposing I refuse to withdraw at your dictation?”
“It would be only what I expect. Gentlemen, I now assert in the presence of you all that the Comte de Mont Rouge is a liar, and I shall continue to repeat it until——”
“No, sir,” Mont Rouge interrupted. “You will not repeat it. But at half-past six to-morrow morning you will also in the presence of these gentlemen doubtless permit me to teach you that I am not to be insulted even by a Cordon Bleu!”