Part 18 (2/2)

”You are a very insolent fellow,” said he, in his ringing ba.s.s voice.

”Go your way!”

”I receive no such orders,” replied the workman, in a tone which justified the epithet which had just been bestowed upon him; ”we are upon public ground, and I have a right to be here as well as you.”

”If you do not take to your heels at once,” said the artist, becoming purple with rage, ”I will cut your face in two.”

”Apples are sometimes cut in two,” said Lambernier, sneeringly advancing his face with an air of bravado. ”My face is not afraid of your whip; you can not frighten me because you are a gentleman and I am a workman!

I snap my fingers at bourgeois like--”

This time he did not have time to finish his comparison; a blow from the whip cut him in the face and made him reel in spite of himself.

”By heaven!” he exclaimed, in a voice like thunder, ”may I lose my name if I do not polish you off well!”

He threw his coat on the gra.s.s, spat, in his hands and rubbed them together, a.s.suming the position of an athlete ready for a boxing-bout.

Mademoiselle Gobillot, arose, trembling with fright at this demonstration, and uttered two or three inarticulate cries; but, instead of throwing herself between the combatants in the approved style, she ran away as fast as she could.

Although the weapons of the adversaries were not of a nature to spill blood upon the turf, there was something warlike about their countenances which would have done honor to ancient paladins. Lambernier squatting upon his legs, according to the rules of pugilism, and with his fists on a level with his shoulders, resembled, somewhat, a cat ready to bound upon its prey. The artist stood with his body thrown backward, his legs on a tension, his chin buried up to his moustache in the fur collar of his coat, with whip lowered, watching all his adversary's movements with a steady eye. When he saw the carpenter advancing toward him, he raised his arm and gave him on the left side a second lash from his whip, so vigorously applied that the workman beat a retreat once more, rubbing his hands and roaring:

”Thunder! I'll finish you--”

He put his hands in his trousers' pockets and drew out one of those large iron compa.s.ses such as carpenters use, and opened it with a rapid movement. He then seized it in the centre and was thus armed with a sort of double-pointed stiletto, which he brandished with a threatening gesture.

Marillac, at this sight, drew back a few paces, pa.s.sed his whip to his left hand and, arming himself with his Corsican poniard, placed himself in a position of defence.

”My friend,” said he, with perfect deliberation, ”my needle is shorter than yours, but it p.r.i.c.ks better. If you take one step nearer me, if you raise your hand, I will bleed you like a wild boar.”

Seeing the firm att.i.tude of the artist, whose solid figure seemed to denote rather uncommon vigor, and whose moustache and sparkling eyes gave him a rather formidable aspect at this moment; above all, when he saw the large, sharp blade of the poniard, Lambernier stopped.

”By the G.o.ds!” exclaimed Marillac, who saw that his bold looks had produced their effect, ”you are a Provencal, and I a Gascon. You have a quick hand, comrade--”

”But, by Jove! you are the one who has the quick hand; you struck me with your whip as if I had been a horse. You have put my eye almost out. Do you imagine that I am well provided for like yourself and have nothing to do but to flirt with girls? I need my eyes in order to work, by G.o.d! Because you are a bourgeois and I am a workman--”

”I am not more of a bourgeois than you,” replied the artist, rather glad to see his adversary's fury exhaust itself in words, and his att.i.tude a.s.sume a less threatening character; ”pick up your compa.s.s and return to your work. Here,” he added, taking two five-franc pieces from his pocket. ”You were a little boorish and I a little hasty. Go and bathe your eyes with a gla.s.s of wine.”

Lambernier scowled and his eyes darted ugly, hateful glances. He hesitated a moment, as if he were thinking what he had better do, and was weighing his chances of success in case of a hostile resolve. After a few moments' reflection, prudence got the better of his anger. He closed his compa.s.s and put it in his pocket, but he refused the silver offered him.

”You are generous,” said he, with a bitter smile; ”five francs for each blow of the whip! I know a good many people who would offer you their cheek twelve hours of the day at that price. But I am not one of that kind; I ask nothing of n.o.body.”

”If Leonardo da Vinci could have seen this fellow's face just now,”

thought the artist, ”he would not have had to seek so long for his model for the face of Judas. Only for my poniard, my fate would have been settled. This man was ready to murder me.”

”Listen, Lambernier,” said he, ”I was wrong to strike you, and I would like to atone for it. I have been told that you were sent away from the chateau against your will. I am intimate enough with Monsieur de Bergenheim to be useful to you; do you wish me to speak to him for you?”

The carpenter stood motionless in his place, with his eyes fixed upon his adversary while the latter was preparing his horse to mount, eyes which seemed filled with hatred to their very depths. His face suddenly changed its expression and became abjectly polite when he heard himself addressed anew. He shook his head two or three times before replying.

”Unless you are the very devil,” he said, ”I defy you to make this gentleman say yes when he has once said no. He turned me away like a dog; all right. Let them laugh that win. It was that old idiot of a Rousselet and that old simpleton of a coachman of Mademoiselle de Corandeuil's who told tales about me. I could tell tales also if I liked.”

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