Amazed and deeply marvelling what so extraordinary a visit might portend, I
hastened to wait upon his Eminence.
I found him standing by the window, and received from him a greeting that
was passing curt and cavalier.
"Has M. de Mancini been here?" he inquired peremptorily, disregarding the
chair I offered him.
"He has but left me, Monseigneur."
"Then you know, sir, of the harvest which he has already reaped from the
indiscretion into which you led him last night?"
"If Monseigneur alludes to the affront put upon M. de Mancini touching his
last night's indiscretion, by a bully of the Court, I am informed of it."
"Pish, Monsieur! I do not follow your fine distinctions--possibly this is
due to my imperfect knowledge of the language of France, possibly to your
own imperfect acquaintance with the language of truth."
"Monseigneur!"
"Faugh!" he cried, half scornfully, half peevishly. "I came not here to
talk of you, but of my nephew. Why did he visit you?"
"To do me the honour of asking me to second him at St. Germain this
evening."
"And so you think that this duel is to be fought?--that my nephew is to be
murdered?"
"We will endeavour to prevent his being--as your Eminence daintily puts
it--murdered.
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