He grew livid with passion.
"You shall learn more ere you quit it, you meddler! You shall be taught to keep that long nose of yours out of matters that concern you not."
I laughed.
"Loud threats!" I answered jeeringly.
"Never fear," he cried, "there is more to follow. To your cost shall you learn it. By God, sir! do you think that I am to suffer a Sicilian adventurer and a broken tavern ruffler to interfere with my designs?"
Still I kept my temper.
"So!" I said in a bantering tone. "You confess that you have designs. Good! But what says the lady, eh? I am told that she is not yet outrageously enamoured of you, for all your beauty!"
Beside himself with passion, his hand sought his sword. But the gesture was spasmodic.
"Knave!" he snarled.
"Knave to me? Have a care, St. Auban, or I'll find you a shroud for a wedding garment."
"Knave!" he repeated with a snarl. "What price are you paid by that boy?"
"Pardieu, St. Auban! You shall answer to me for this."
"Answer for it? To you!" And he laughed harshly. "You are mad, my master. When did a St. Auban cross swords with a man of your stamp?"
"M. le Marquis," I said, with a calmness that came of a stupendous effort, "at Choisy you sought my friendship with high-sounding talk of principles that opposed you to the proposed alliance, twixt the houses of Mancini and Canaples. Since then I have learned that your motives were purely personal. From my discovery I hold you to be a liar."
"Monsieur!"
"I have not yet done. You refuse to cross swords with me on the pretext that you do not fight men of my stamp. I am no saint, sir, I confess. But my sins cannot wash out my name--the name of a family accounted as good as that of St. Auban, and one from which a Constable of France has sprung, whereas yours has never yet bred aught but profligates and debauchees. You are little better than I am, Marquis; indeed, you do many things that I would not do, that I have never done. For instance, whilst refusing to cross blades with me, who am a soldier and a man of the sword, you seek to pick a fight with a beardless boy who hardly knows the use of a rapier, and who--wittingly at least--has done you no wrong. Now, my master, you may call me profligate, ruffler, gamester, duellist--what you will; but there are two viler things you cannot dub me, and which, methinks, I have proven you to be--liar and craven."