"Philippe, do you go to De Farraud's to-night?" asked De Bergeret suddenly. He was lounging on the couch in Philip's room, watching Philip adjust his patches. "De Farraud's? I'd not thought of it. Whom shall I meet there?"
"Your very obedient," said De Bergeret, flourishing his hat.
"The prospect does not entice me," answered Philip. "No, don't retort! Don't speak. Don't move!" He leaned forward, shifting a candle to throw its light on his face, and frowned at his reflection. The white hand that held the haresfoot wavered an instant, and then alighted at the corner of his mouth. Philip sat back, studying the effect.
"Whom else shall I meet, Jules?"
"The usual people, I fancy. And some others, no doubt."
"De Farraud's friends are so very mixed," deplored Philip. "Do you suppose that De Chambert will be present?"
"Nothing is more certain," yawned De Bergeret. "But it will be amusing, and the play will be high, which is all that matters."
"But De Chambert wears puce small-clothes," objected Philip.
"Does he? Mordieu, I'd like to see that! Puce small-clothes, forsooth! And what does our Philippe wear?"
Philip glanced lovingly down at his pearl-grey breeches.
"Grey, and palest pink, with lacings of silver." He slipped out of his gaily-hued robe, and stood up.
De Bergeret levelled his eyeglass at him.
"Parbleu, Philippe! Grey lace!"
Philip shook out his ruffles.
"A sweet conceit, hein? But wait! Fran?ois, my vest!"
His valet brought it, and helped Philip to put it on. It was a very exquisite confection of pink and silver brocade.
De Bergeret was interested.
"I'll swear you designed that, Philippe! Now for the coat!"
When Philip had at last succeeded in entering into the coat it was some ten minutes later. Fran?ois stepped back, panting; Philip arranged his sword to his satisfaction.
"A careless sprinkling of rubies, hein? One in the cravat, one here, another in my wig. And on my fingers, so!..."
"Perfect!" applauded De Bergeret. "Tonnerre de Dieu, pink hummingbirds on your stockings!"
Fran?ois beamed and clasped his hands, gazing in rapt admiration at Philip's startlingly clocked legs.
Philip laughed.
"Do they please your artistic soul, Jules? And are they to be wasted on De Farraud? I had intended to go to the Saint-Clamond rout, where I know I shall meet Clothilde. Come with me!"
De Bergeret shook his head.
"I promised De Vangrisse I'd be at De Farraud's some time to-night. Forget the lovely Clothilde, Philippe. Bethink you, your so dear friend Bancroft will come to Farraud's in De Chambert's train!"
Philip was fixing a long ruby ear-ring in his right ear, but he stopped suddenly, and looked over his shoulder at De Bergeret.
"Comment?"
"Why, you leap to my bait!" said De Bergeret, amused. "I thought you could not resist so great an attraction!"
Philip fixed the ruby and swept round for his cloak and hat.
"Faith, that can I not. I come, Jules, I come! Fran?ois, thou rogue, my snuff-box! Would that he may be wearing that salmon-pink! Fran?ois, my cane! Jules, you are sitting on my cloak! Sangdieu! My new cloak!" He swept De Bergeret off the coat, and shook out the soft, rose-lined folds. "God be praised, it is unhurt!" With a deft movement he swung it over his shoulders and fastened it. "My hat! Jules, what think you of my hat?"
"A grey hat! Philippe, what an audacity! You are really coming to De Farraud's?"
"To meet the so dear M. Bancroft. En avant, Jules!"
De Bergeret went to the glass.
"Cultivate a more restful manner, mon petit! I am not to be hurried. Do you like this mixture of violet and cream?"
"I like everything you have on, even the so badly arranged cravat! I am consumed with impatience! Come!"
"But why? Are you hasting to see the unspeakable Bancroft?"
"But yes! Whom else? I will explain en route."
De Bergeret suffered himself to be led to the door.
"Philippe, it is not convenable to display such enthusiasm. Languor is now the fashion."
"I am a fashion unto myself, then. I am an original. And I go to call out M. Bancroft!"
De Bergeret stopped short.
"What! A brawl? No, then, I'll not come!"
"A brawl? Is it possible? I shall conduct the affair with great douceur, I assure you! You and Saint-Dantin are to be my seconds."
"Miséricorde! Philippe, you become more and more tiresome!" expostulated his friend. "Why must you fight this fellow?"
"An old quarrel—the settling of an unpaid score! Allons!"
"Oh, the devil," muttered Bancroft.
"Où donc?" inquired Le Vallon, who was sitting next to him and who understood English.
Bancroft shot an angry glance towards the door. Le Vallon turned to see what had excited his wrath.
Talking to De Farraud, with many quick gestures and smiles, was Philip. He had just arrived, and he was apologizing for his lateness, throwing all the blame on De Bergeret, who accepted it meekly.
"Oh, the little Englishman!" said Le Vallon scornfully. "Always late, always eccentric. And grey lace! What an affectation!"
Philip cast a swift glance round the room. His eyes rested an instant on Bancroft's face, then they passed on. Two or three men called to him, and he presently went to dice with De Vangrisse. But when Le Vallon left Bancroft to join a faro group, Philip swept up his dice, and with a laughing word to De Vangrisse, promising to return, he walked over to Bancroft's table, and sat down in Le Vallon's chair with a swirl of his full skirts.
Bancroft was about to rise. Astonished at Philip's sudden advent, he sank back again.
"To what do I owe this honour?" he demanded.
Philip dealt out the cards.
"I will tell you. A hand of piquet? You will declare?" Bancroft sorted his hand rather sullenly. Not until he had declared and played his card did Philip speak again. Then he took the trick and leaned forward.
"It comes to my ears that you have been bandying a certain lady's name about Paris in a way that does not please me. You understand, yes?"
"What the devil is it to you?" cried Bancroft, crimson-faced.
"Sh, sh! Not so loud, if you please! Go on playing! I am informed that you speak of this lady as a pretty piece! It is not how I will have you speak of her. Also, you say that she fell in love with you en désespéré. Eh bien, I say that you lie in your throat!"
"............