Monsieur Duval kept looking toward Marsac with the evident desire to get rid of him. Presently he rose and walked over to where Marsac stood, and began to whisper in an embarrassed manner,-- “I say, Monsieur Marsac--pray pardon me for asking--would you--er--ah--be kind enough to tell me--excuse me for inquiring--” Here the old fellow burst out explosively: “What the devil are you sticking here for?” “Because,” answered Marsac, “I thought you would like the protection of my presence, under the circumstances.” “Well--I don’t.” “And then, it occurred to me that you had once suggested I should myself make an offer to Madame Fleury. The lady is here; also the moon, nightingales, flowers, and other incentives to romance.” “I withdraw that suggestion, Monsieur Marsac.” “I have not asked to have it withdrawn, Monsieur Duval.” “O-o-o-h!” groaned old Duval. Then, suddenly, the absurdity of Marsac’s making love to any woman overcame him, and he burst out, laughing: “This tickles me under the fifth rib! Delphine must know it.” It was now Marsac’s turn to be chagrined. “My dear sir,” he cried, “I beg of you not to mention it to Mademoiselle Delphine. It was a mere idle remark. As you have frequently heard me say, my ideal of a woman is a Platonist. I would not marry any other, and no Platonist would marry me; so you perceive the utter baselessness of my language.” “I do,” answered old Duval, looking much relieved, “and I hope you’ll stick to it. Now, I’ll return to that poor woman yonder;” which he immediately proceeded to do. Within two minutes he said in a loud voice, meant for Marsac to hear, “Come, Madame, let us look for Fontaine in the garden.” The two walked off, round the corner of the terrace, in a direction opposite to the garden. [Illustration] Marsac knew in an instant that Madame Fleury’s manœuvre meant a chance to finish up old Duval in private, as a tigress drags her prey off to the jungle to devour. Marsac then looked carefully around him, and seeing that he was quite unobserved, he took from his pocket the copy of Plato out of which he had been reading to Delphine, and giving the book a vicious kick, sent it spinning to the other end of the terrace. “Villain,” “scoundrel,” “dolt,” “rascal,” “idiot,” were a few of the expletives that he hurled after the greatest of the Greeks. Then he walked over to the corner of the terrace where the table was, as the best point to command a view of the grounds, and seeing a champagne bottle half emptied was about to drink the balance of the wine in order to save it, when his eye suddenly fell upon a paper lying face upward on the table. It was the contract between Fontaine and Madame Fleury. Marsac could scarcely restrain a shout of joy. He seized it and put it in his pocket; but the next moment he saw Madame Fleury crossing swiftly toward him, and alone.