, that the hand in question belonged to Monsieur Mirobolant, whose
eyes were glaring out of his pale face and ringlets at Mr. Pen. To be
tapped on the shoulder by a French cook was a piece of familiarity
which made the blood of the Pendennises to boil up in the veins of their
descendant, and he was astounded, almost more than enraged, at such an
indignity.

"You speak French?" Mirobolant said in his own language to Pen.

"What is that to you, pray?" said Pen, in English.

"At any rate, you understand it?" continued the other, with a bow.

"Yes, sir," said Pen, with a stamp of his foot; "I understand it pretty
well."

"Vous me comprendrez alors, Monsieur Pendennis," replied the other,
rolling out his r with Gascon force, "quand je vous dis que vous etes un
lache. Monsieur Pendennis--un lache, entendez-vous?"

"What?" said Pen, starting round on him.

"You understand the meaning of the word and its consequences among men
of honour?" the artist said, putting his hand on his hip, and staring at
Pen.

"The consequences are, that I will fling you out of window, you impudent
scoundrel," bawled out Mr. Pen; and darting upon the Frenchman, he would
very likely have put his threat into execution, for the window was at
hand, and the artist by no means a match for the young gentleman--had
not Captain Broadfoot and another heavy officer flung themselves between
the combatants,--had not the ladies begun to scream,--had not the
fiddles stopped, had not the crowd of people come running in that
direction,--had not Laura, with a face of great alarm, looked over their
heads and asked for Heaven's sake what was wrong,--had not the opportune
Strong made his appearance from the refreshment-room, and found Alcides
grinding his teeth and jabbering oaths in his Galleon French, and
Pen looking uncommonly wicked, although trying to appear as calm as
possible, when the ladies and the crowd came up.

"What has happened?" Strong asked of the chef, in Spanish.

"I am Chevalier de Juillet," said the other, slapping his breast, "and
he has insulted me."

"What has he said to you?" asked Strong.

"Il m'a appele--Cuisinier," hissed out the little Frenchman.

Strong could hardly help laughing. "Come away with me, poor Chevalier,"
he said. "We must not quarrel before ladies. Come away; I will carry
your message to Mr. Pendennis.--The poor fellow is not right in his
head," he whispered to one or two people about him;--and others, and
anxious