CHAPTER XVIII
OF HOW I LEFT CANAPLES
Whilst a man might tell a dozen did those two remain motionless, the one
eyeing the other. But their bearing was as widely different as their
figures; Eug?ne's stalwart frame stood firm and erect, insolence in every
line of it, reflected perchance from the smile that lurked about the
corners of his thinlipped mouth.
The hat, which he had not had the grace to doff, set jauntily upon his
straight black hair, the jerkin of leather which he wore, and the stout
sword which hung from the plainest of belts, all served to give him the air
of a ruffler, or tavern knight.
The Chevalier, on the other hand, stood as if turned to stone. From his
enervated fingers the letter fluttered to the ground, and on his pale, thin
face was to be read a displeasure mixed with fear.
At length, with an oath, the old man broke the silence.
"What seek you at Canaples?" he asked in a quivering voice, as he advanced
into the room. "Are you so dead to shame that you dare present yourself
with such effrontery? Off with your hat, sir!" he blazed, stamping his
foot, and going from pale to crimson.
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