de Coralth had to exercise
considerable constraint to listen to these fine projects. "I must
warn you that you ought to speak in other terms of an honorable
and honored gentleman," he interrupted, at last.
"Eh! what! You know him then?"
"Yes, Madame d'Argeles's defender is Baron Trigault."
M. Wilkie's heart bounded with joy, as he heard this name. "Ah!
this is capital!" he exclaimed. "What! So it was Baron Trigault--
the noted gambler--who owns such a magnificent house in the Rue de
la Ville l'Eveque, the husband of that extremely stylish lady,
that notorious cocotte----"
The viscount sprang from his chair, and interrupting M. Wilkie: "I
advise you, for the sake of your own safety," he said, measuring
his words to give them greater weight, "never to mention the
Baroness Trigault's name except in terms of the most profound
respect."
There was no misunderstanding M. de Coralth's tone, and his glance
said plainly that he would not allow much time to pass before
putting his threat into execution. Having always lived in a lower
circle to that in which the baroness sparkled with such lively
brilliancy, M. Wilkie was ignorant of the reasons that induced his
distinguished friend to defend her so warmly; but he DID
understand that it would be highly imprudent to insist, or even to
discuss the matter. So, in his most persuasive manner, he
resumed: "Let us say no more about the wife, but give our
attention to the husband.
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