In less than fifteen minutes M. de Tregars had despatched a bowl of soup and a slice of beef, and was hastening out, when his foot struck his neighbor’s foot, without his being able to understand how it had happened. Though fully convinced that it was not his fault, he hastened to excuse himself. But the other began to talk angrily, and so loud, that everybody turned around. Vexed as he was, Marius renewed his apologies. But the other, like those cowards who think they have found a greater coward than themselves, was pouring forth a torrent of the grossest insults. M. de Tregars was lifting his hand to administer a well-deserved correction, when suddenly the scene in the grand parlor of the Thaller mansion came back vividly to his mind. He saw again, as in the glass, the ill-looking man listening, with an anxious look, to Mme. de Thaller’s propositions, and afterwards sitting down to write. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, a multitude of circumstances occurring to his mind, which had escaped him at the moment. And, without further reflection, seizing his adversary by the throat, he threw him over on the table, holding him down with his knee. “I am sure he must have the letter about him,” he said to the people who surrounded him. And in fact he did take from the side-pocket of the villain a letter, which he unfolded, and commenced reading aloud, “I am waiting for you, my dear major, come quick, for the thing is pressing,--a troublesome gentleman who is to be made to keep quiet. It will be for you the matter of a sword-thrust, and for us the occasion to divide a round amount.” “And, that’s why he picked a quarrel with me,” added M. de Tregars. Two waiters had taken hold of the villain, who was struggling furiously, and wanted to surrender him to the police. “What’s the use?” said Marius. “I have his letter: that’s enough. The police will find him when they want him.” And, getting back into his cab, “Rue St. Gilles,” he ordered, “and lively, if possible.” VIII In the Rue St. Gilles the hours were dragging, slow and gloomy. After Maxence had left to go and meet M. de Tregars, Mme. Favoral and her daughter had remained alone with M. Chapelain, and had been compelled to bear the brunt of his wrath, and to hear his interminable complaints. He was certainly an excellent man, that old lawyer, and too just to hold Mlle. Gilberte or her mother responsible for Vincent Favoral’s acts. He spoke the truth when he assured them that he had for them a sincere affection, and that they might rely upon his devotion. But he was losing a hundred and sixty thousand francs; and a man who loses such a large sum is naturally in bad humor, and not much disposed to optimism. The cruellest enemies of the poor women would not have tortured them so mercilessly as this devoted friend.