"What a brute!" thought the enraged viscount. "If I
leave him to himself, no one knows what foolish thing he may do or
say. I must remain with him until he becomes sober again."
So he followed him to the theatre, and thence to Brebant's, where
he was sitting feeling terribly bored, when M. Wilkie conceived
the unfortunate idea of inviting Victor Chupin to come up and take
some refreshment. The scene which followed greatly alarmed the
viscount. Who could this young man be? He did not remember having
ever seen him before, and yet the young scamp was evidently well
acquainted with his past life, for he had cast the name of Paul in
his face, as a deadly insult. Surely this was enough to make the
viscount shudder! How did it happen that this young man had been
just on the spot ready to pick up Wilkie's hat? Was it mere
chance? Certainly not. He could not believe it. Then why was the
fellow there? Evidently to watch somebody. And whom? Why, him--
Coralth--undoubtedly.
In going through life as he had done, a man makes enemies at every
step; and he had an imposing number of foes, whom he only held in
check by his unbounded impudence and his renown as a duellist.
Thus it was not strange if some one had set a snare for him; it
was rather a miracle that he had not fallen into one before. The
dangers that threatened him were so formidable that he was almost
tempted to relinquish his attack on Madame d'Argeles.
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