down
to hell!" and down came both hands heavily upon the velvet table between
them. The blue crackle jar, the two "Long Eliza" vases, and all the
Lowestoft cups and saucers, literally jumped upon their foundations.

"For Heaven's sake!" cried Vera.

"Ah!" in a tone of deep reproach, "do not plead with me, mademoiselle;
you have broken my heart."

"And you have nearly broken the china," murmured Vera.

"What is this miserable china that you talk about in comparison with my
happiness?" and the vicomte made as though he would tear his hair out
with both hands.

The comedy of the situation began to be too much for Vera's self-control;
another ten minutes of it, and she felt that she should become
hysterical; all the more so because she knew very well that the whole
thing was nothing but a piece of acting; with what object, however, she
was at a loss to imagine.

"For goodness sake, do be reasonable, Monsieur D'Arblet; you know
perfectly well that I never encouraged you, as you call it, for the very
good reason that there has never been anything to encourage. We have been
very good friends, but never anything more."

"Mademoiselle, you do me injustice."

"On the contrary, I give you credit for a great deal more common sense,
as a rule, than you seem disposed to evince to-day. I am quite certain
that you have never entertained any warmer feeling towards me than
friendship."

This was an injudicious statement. Monsieur D'Arblet felt that his
reputation as a _galant homme_ and an adorer of the fair sex was
impugned; he instantly flew into the most violent passion, and jumped
about amongst the gipsy tables and the _etageres_, and the dainty little
spindle-legged cabinets more vehemently than ever.

"_I_, not love you! Lucien D'Arblet profess a sentiment which he does not
experience! _Ah! par exemple, Mademoiselle, c'est trop fort!_ Next you
will say that I am a _menteur_, a _fripon_, a _lache_! You will tell me
that I have no honour, and no sense of the generosity due to a woman;
that I am a brute and an imbecile," and at every epithet he dashed his
hands violently out in front of him, or thrust them wildly through his
disordered locks. The whole room shook, every ornament on every table
shivered with the strength of his agitation.

"Oh, I will say any single thing you like," cried Vera, "if only you will
keep still----"

"Do not insult me by denying my affection!"

"I will deny nothing," said poor Vera, at her