"Ha! I was forgetting! A thousand congratulations on having won your bet, my dear fellow!"
"What bet?"
"The bet you made at the races to effect an entrance the same evening into that lady's house."
Frederick felt as if he had got a lash with a whip. He was speedily appeased by the look of utter confusion in Cisy's face.
In fact, the Maréchale, next morning, was filled with regret when Arnoux, her first lover, her good friend, had presented himself that very day. They both gave the Vicomte to understand that he was in the way, and kicked him out without much ceremony.
He pretended not to have heard what was said.
The Baron went on:
"What has become of her, this fine Rose? Is she as pretty as ever?" showing by his manner that he had been on terms of intimacy with her.
Frederick was chagrined by the discovery.
"There's nothing to blush at," said the Baron, pursuing the topic, "'tis a good thing!"
Cisy smacked his tongue.
"Whew! not so good!"
"Ha!"
"Oh dear, yes! In the first place, I found her nothing extraordinary, and then, you pick up the like of her as often as you please, for, in fact, she is for sale!"
"Not for everyone!" remarked Frederick, with some bitterness.
"He imagines that he is different from the others," was Cisy's comment. "What a good joke!"
And a laugh ran round the table.
Frederick felt as if the palpitations of his heart would suffocate him. He swallowed two glasses of water one after the other.
But the Baron had preserved a lively recollection of Rosanette.
"Is she still interested in a fellow named Arnoux?"
"I haven't the faintest idea," said Cisy, "I don't know that gentleman!"
Nevertheless, he suggested that he believed Arnoux was a sort of swindler.
"A moment!" exclaimed Frederick.
"However, there is no doubt about it! Legal proceedings have been taken against him."
"That is not true!"
Frederick began to defend Arnoux, vouched for his honesty, ended by convincing himself of it, and concocted figures and proofs. The Vicomte, full of spite, and tipsy in addition, persisted in his assertions, so that Frederick said to him gravely:
"Is the object of this to give offence to me, Monsieur?"
And he looked Cisy full in the face, with eyeballs as red as his cigar.
"Oh! not at all. I grant you that he possesses something very nice – his wife."
"Do you know her?"
"Faith, I do! Sophie Arnoux; everyone knows her."
"You mean to tell me that?"
Cisy, who had staggered to his feet, hiccoughed:
"Everyone – knows – her."
"Hold your tongue. It is not with women of her sort you keep company!"
"I – flatter myself – it is."
Frederick flung a plate at his face. It passed like a flash of lightning over the table, knocked down two bottles, demolished a fruit-dish, and breaking into three pieces, by knocking against the épergne, hit the Vicomte in the stomach.
All the other guests arose to hold him back. He struggled and shrieked, possessed by a kind of frenzy.
M. des Aulnays kept repeating:
"Come, be calm, my dear boy!"
"Why, this is frightful!" shouted the tutor.
Forchambeaux, livid as a plum, was trembling. Joseph indulged in repeated outbursts of laughter. The attendants sponged out the traces of the wine, and gathered up the remains of the dinner from the floor; and the Baron went and shut the window, for the uproar, in spite of the noise of carriage-wheels, could be heard on the boulevard.
As all present at the moment the plate had been flung had been talking at the same time, it was impossible to discover the cause of the attack – whether it was on account of Arnoux, Madame Arnoux, Rosanette, or somebody else. One thing only they were certain of, that Frederick had acted with indescribable brutality. On his part, he refused positively to testify the slightest regret for what he had done.
M. des Aulnays tried to soften him. Cousin Joseph, the tutor, and Forchambeaux himself joined in the effort. The Baron, all this time, was cheering up Cisy, who, yielding to nervous weakness, began to shed tears.
Frederick, on the contrary, was getting more and more angry, and they would have remained there till daybreak if the Baron had not said, in order to bring matters to a close:
"The Vicomte, Monsieur, will send his seconds to call on you to-morrow."
"Your hour?"
"Twelve, if it suits you."
"Perfectly, Monsieur."
Frederick, as soon as he was in the open air, drew a deep breath. He had been keeping his feelings too long under restraint; he had satisfied them at last. He felt, so to speak, the pride of virility, a superabundance of energy within him which intoxicated him. He required two seconds. The first person he thought of for the purpose was Regimbart, and he immediately directed his steps towards the Rue Saint-Denis. The shop-front was closed, but some light shone through a pane of glass over the door. It opened and he went in, stooping very low as he passed under the penthouse.
A candle at the side of the bar lighted up the deserted smoking-room. All the stools, with their feet in the air, were piled on the table. The master and mistress, with their waiter, were at supper in a corner near the kitchen; and Regimbart, with his hat on his head, was sharing their meal, and even disturbed the waiter, who was compelled every moment to turn aside a little. Frederick, having briefly explained the matter to him, asked Regimbart to assist him. The Citizen at first made no reply. He rolled his eyes about, looked as if he were plunged in reflection, took several strides around the room, and at last said:
"Yes, by all means!" and a homicidal smile smoothed his brow when he learned that the adversary was a nobleman.
"Make your mind easy; we'll rout him with flying colours! In the first place, with the sword – "
"But perhaps," broke in Frederick, "I have not the right."
"I tell you 'tis necessary to take the sword," the Citizen replied roughly. "Do you know how to make passes?"
"A little."
"Oh! a little. This is the way with all of them; and yet they have a mania for committing assaults. What does the fencing-school teach? Listen to me: keep a good distance off, always confining yourself in circles, and parry – parry as you retire; that is permitted. Tire him out. Then boldly make a lunge on him! and, above all, no malice, no strokes of the La Fougère kind.[C] No! a simple one-two, and some disengagements. Look here! do you see? while you turn your wrist as if opening a lock. Père Vauthier, give me your cane. Ha! that will do."
He grasped the rod which was used for lighting the gas, rounded his left arm, bent his right, and began to make some thrusts against the partition. He stamped with his foot, got animated, and pretended to be encountering difficulties, while he exclaimed: "Are you there? Is that it? Are you there?" and his enormous silhouette projected itself on the wall with his hat apparently touching the ceiling. The owner of the café shouted from time to time: "Bravo! very good!" His wife, though a little unnerved, was likewise filled with admiration; and Théodore, who had been in the army, remained riveted to the spot with amazement, the fact being, however, that he regarded M. Regimbart with a species of hero-worship.
Next morning, at an early hour, Frederick hurried to the establishment in which Dussardier was employed.