But it ought not to count, as it comes from
the Tropics."
Montes had dropped into his chair again, when Josepha gently touched
his forehead, and looked at du Tillet as he said:
"If I am the victim of a Paris jest, if you only wanted to get at my
secret----" and he sent a flashing look round the table, embracing all
the guests in a flaming glance that blazed with the sun of Brazil,--"I
beg of you as a favor to tell me so," he went on, in a tone of almost
childlike entreaty; "but do not vilify the woman I love."
"Nay, indeed," said Carabine in a low voice; "but if, on the contrary,
you are shamefully betrayed, cheated, tricked by Valerie, if I should
give you the proof in an hour, in my own house, what then?"
"I cannot tell you before all these Iagos," said the Brazilian.
Carabine understood him to say _magots_ (baboons).
"Well, well, say no more!" she replied, smiling. "Do not make yourself
a laughing-stock for all the wittiest men in Paris; come to my house,
we will talk it over."
Montes was crushed. "Proofs," he stammered, "consider--"
"Only too many," replied Carabine; "and if the mere suspicion hits you
so hard, I fear for your reason."
"Is this creature obstinate, I ask you? He is worse than the late
lamented King of Holland!--I say, Lousteau, Bixiou, Massol, all the
crew of you, are you not invited to breakfast with Madame Marneffe the
day after to-morrow?" said Leon de Lora.
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