be something else, Garnache determined to pursue a
policy of conciliation. It would be a madness to embroil himself just
then, whether this fellow were of Condillac or not.

"I have asked you, monsieur," the stranger insisted, "to be a little
more definite."

Garnache's smile broadened and grew more friendly. "Frankly," said he,
"I experience difficulty. My remark was vague. I meant it so to be."

"But it offended me, monsieur," the other answered sharply.

The Parisian raised his eyebrows, and pursed his lips. "Then I deplore
it," said he. And now he had to endure the hardest trial of all. The
stranger's expression changed to one of wondering scorn.

"Do I understand that monsieur apologizes?"

Garnache felt himself crimsoning; his self-control was slipping from
him; the pressure against his shoulder blade was renewed, and in time he
became aware of it and knew it for a warning from Rabecque.

"I cannot conceive, sir, that I have offended," said he at length,
keeping a tight hand upon his every instinct--which was to knock this
impertinent stranger down. "But if I have, I beg that you will believe
that I have done so unwittingly. I had no such intent."

The stranger removed his hand from the table and drew himself erect.

"So much for that, then," said he, provokingly contemptuous. "If you
will be as amiable in the matter of the supper I shall be glad to
terminate an acquaintance which I can see no honour to myself in
pursuing."

This, Garnache felt, was more than he could endure. A spasm of passion
crossed his face, another instant and despite Rabecque's frantic
proddings he might have flung the ragout in the gentleman's face; when
suddenly came the landlord unexpectedly to the rescue.

"Monsieur, here comes your supper now," he announced, as his wife
reentered from the kitchen with a laden tray.

For a moment the stranger seemed out of countenance. Then he looked with
cold insolence from the dishes set before Garnache to those which were
being set for himself.

"Ah," said he, and his tone was an insult unsurpassable, "perhaps it is
to be preferred. This ragout grows cold, I think."

He sniffed, and turning on his heel, without word or sign of salutation
to Garnache, he passed to the next table, and sat down with his
companions. The Parisian's eyes followed him, and they blazed
with suppressed wrath. Never in all his life had he exercised such
self-control as he was exercising then--which was the reas