I was disturbed and out of humour. Again I was in conflict. I thought of what she was, and wondered that such men, and men so placed, as Wetter and I should quarrel about her; I looked in her face and felt a momentary conviction that all the world might fall to righting on her account; at least things more absurd have surely happened. But I answered smoothly and composedly. (That trick at least I had learned.)
"Sincerity is our hostess's greatest charm," said I.
Wetter laughed loudly and sneeringly. Coralie turned a gaze of indifferent curiosity on him. He puzzled her, tiresomely sometimes. I knew that he meant an insult. My blood runs hot at such moments. I was about to speak when Varvilliers forestalled me. He leaned across the table and said in a very low voice to Wetter:
"Sir, his Majesty is the only gentleman in Forstadt who can not resent an insult."
I recollect well little Madame Briande's pale face, as she half rose from her seat with clasped hands. Coralie still smiled. Vohrenlorf was red and fierce, with his hand 'on the hilt of his sword. Varvilliers was calm, cool, polished in demeanour.
For a moment or two Wetter sat silent, his eyes intently fixed on the Vicomte's face. Then he said in a tone as low as Varvilliers' had been:
"I think his Majesty remembers his disabilities too late—or has them remembered for him."
Vohrenlorf rose to his feet, carried away by anger and excitement.
"Sir" he cried loudly.
"Vohrenlorf, be quiet. Sit down," said I. "M. Wetter is right."
None spoke. Even Coralie seemed affected to
