"
The reply was an expressive monosyllable, "O!"
"Do you deny it?" demanded the Englishman.
"Deny what?" asked Maurice.
"The archbishop," said Madame, "assumed the aggressive last
night. To be aggressive one must possess strength. Monsieur, how
much did he pay for those consols? Come, tell me; was he
liberal? It is evident that you are not a man of business. I
should have been willing to pay as much as a hundred thousand
crowns. Come; acknowledge that you have made a bad stroke." She
bent her head to one side, and a derisive smile lifted the
corners of her lips.
A dull red flooded the prisoner's cheeks. "I do not understand you."
"You lie!" Fitzgerald stepped closer and his hands closed
menacingly.
"Thank you," said Maurice, "thank you. But why not complete the
melodrama by striking, since you have doubled your fists?"
Fitzgerald glared at him.
"Monsieur," interposed the countess, "do not forget that you are
a gentleman; Monsieur Carewe's hands are tied."
"Unfortunately," observed Maurice.
Madame looked curiously at the countess, while Fitzgerald drew
back to the table and rested on it.
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