Calvert," he said, the insolent smile
deepening on his lips.
"I am not here to welcome you, Monsieur," returned Calvert,
indifferently.
Monsieur de St. Aulaire waved his hand lightly as if flinging off the
insult, but the flush on his dissipated face deepened. Calvert, seeing
that he could not be got rid of immediately, drew him into a little
anteroom where they were almost alone.
"And yet I wished profoundly that we might meet, Monsieur--more so,
apparently, I regret to say, than you have. I have seen friends of ours
in Paris since you have had that pleasure, Monsieur," says St. Aulaire,
throwing himself across a chair and resting his folded arms on the back.
"Indeed."
"You are cold-blooded, Monsieur--'tis a grave fault. You miss half the
pleasures of life--but I think you would like to know whom I mean.
Confess, Monsieur! But there, I see you know--who else could it be but
Madame de St. Andre?" and the insolent smile broke into a still more
insolent laugh.
"We will leave Madame de St. Andre's name out of this conversation,
Monsieur."
"Pardieu! So you think I am not worthy to mention it, Monsieur," cried
St.
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