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"What do I care?" muttered the Count in return. "Enough of this

prattle! Bore other men with your respects and offices! I have

been guilty of folly enough already, when I joined with you

gentlemen in drinking bouts that end by becoming coarse brawls.

Give me satisfaction for the injury to my honour! We shall meet

again when you are sober-follow me, Gerwazy!"

The Chamberlain had never expected any such answer as this, and

was just filling his glass, when he was smitten by the insolence

of the Count as by thunder: resting the bottle motionless against

the glass, he leaned his head to one side and pricked up his

ears, opening wide his eyes and half unclosing his lips; he held

his peace, but squeezed the glass in his hand so powerfully that

it broke with a snap and sent the liquor spurting into his eyes.

One would have said that with the wine fire was poured into his

soul; so did his face flame, so did his eye blaze. He struggled

to speak; the first word he ground indistinctly in his mouth,

until it flew forth between his teeth:-