“To encounter Monsieur the Chevalier,” replied Florian, with quite as sweet a stateliness, but feeling rather like a bantam cock beside this big Raoul, “is always a privilege.” People everywhere were listening now: this gambit hardly seemed fraternal. The well-bred elderly friends of Monsieur de Brancas, to be sure, made a considerate pretence at going on with their talk, but most of the scented and painted boys had betrayed their lower social degree by gaping openly: and Florian knew he was in for an unpleasant business. “—For I am wondering if you have heard, monsieur,” the Chevalier went on, “that the Comte d’Arnaye has spread the report that at Madame de Nesle’s last ball I appeared with two buttons missing from my waistcoat?” “I really cannot answer for the truth of such gossip, monsieur,”—thus Florian, with high civility,—“since I have not seen my uncle for some time.” “Ah, ah! so the Comte d’Arnaye is your uncle!” Raoul seemed gravely pleased. “That is excellent, for, inasmuch as I cannot readily obtain satisfaction for this calumny from your uncle, who has retired into the provinces for the winter, I can apply to you.” Florian said, with careful patience: “I am delighted, monsieur, to act as his representative. In that capacity I can assure you whoever asserted Monsieur d’Arnaye declared the waistcoat in which you attended the last ball of Madame de Nesle to be deficient in two buttons, or in one button, or in a half-stitch of thread, has told a lie.” Raoul de Puysange frowned. “Diantre! it was my own cousin, the Count’s youngest son, who was my informant; and since my cousin, monsieur, as you are well aware, is little more than a child—” “You should have the less trouble, then,” said Florian, vexed by his brother’s pertinacity, “in horsewhipping the brat for his silly falsehood.” “Come, Monsieur the Duke, but I cannot have my cousin called a liar, far less listen to this talk of horsewhipping one who is of my blood. I must ask satisfaction for these affronts, and I will send a friend to wait upon you.” Florian looked sadly at his brother. But the Duc de Puysange shrugged before a meddlesome and quite unimportant person. Florian answered: “I am well content, Monsieur the Chevalier. Only, to save time, I would suggest that your friend go direct to the Vicomte de Lautrec, since he is here to-night, and since I have promised him that he should second me in my next affair.”