The viscount didn't take up this species of challenge, and the marquis made haste to change the conversation. "Why, in God's name, aren't you playing?" he asked Leoni. "_Ventre-Dieu_! I play every day to oblige you, although I detest gambling; you will make a fool of me with your cards and your dice, and your pockets like the cask of the Danaides, and your insatiable hands! You are nothing but a parcel of fools, the whole of you. When you have made a hit, instead of taking a rest and enjoying life like true sybarites, you keep at it until you have spoiled your luck." "Luck, luck!" said the marquis, "everyone knows what luck is." "Many thanks!" said Leoni, "I no longer care to know; I was too thoroughly currycombed at Paris. When I think that there is one man, whom may God in his mercy consign to all the devils----!" "Well?" said the viscount. "A man," said the marquis, "of whom we must rid ourselves at any cost, if we wish to enjoy liberty again on this earth. But, patience, there are two of us against him." "Never fear," said Leoni, "I have not so far forgotten the old customs of the country that I don't know how to clear my path of the man who stands in my way. Except for my devil of a love-affair, which filled my brain, I had a fine chance in Brussels." "You?" said the marquis; "you never did anything in that line, and you will never have the courage." "Courage?" cried Leoni, half-rising, with flashing eyes. "No extravagance," replied the marquis, with that horrifying sang-froid which they all had. "Let us understand each other. You have courage to kill a bear or a wild boar, but you have too many sentimental and philosophical ideas in your head to kill a man." "That may be," said Leoni, resuming his seat, "but I am not sure." "You don't mean to play at Palermo, then?" said the viscount. "To the devil with your gambling! If I could get up a passion for something--hunting, or a horse, or an olive-skinned Calabrian--I would go next summer, and shut myself up in the Abruzzi and pass a few more months forgetting you all." "Rekindle your passion for Juliette," said the viscount, with a sneer. "I will not rekindle my passion for Juliette," replied Leoni, angrily, "but I will strike you if you mention her name again." "We must make him drink some tea," said the viscount, "he's dead drunk." "Come, come, Leoni," cried the marquis, grasping his arm, "you treat us horribly to-night. What's the matter with you, in God's name? Are we no longer friends? do you doubt us? Speak." "No, I don't doubt you," said Leoni; "you have given me back as much as I took from you. I know what you are worth; good and bad, I judge you all, without prejudice or prepossession." "Ah! I should like to hear your judgment!" said the viscount, between his teeth.