the theatre; that will be best!"

"No, I will kill him. I will shed his blood. He who insults me in a
gentlemanly manner must be shown that I can revenge myself like a
gentleman. I will wipe off the score with pistols--with pistols I say."

The old man and the female members of the family were duly impressed by
this bragging, or rather all except Madame Langai, who was getting ready
for the theatre and took no notice of the general conversation.

Mr. John was much put out by her indifference. "Matilda," he asked,
"what do _you_ say? Ought I not to fight, after such an insult?"

Madame Langai answered the unavoidable question with a cold smile: "I
would only say that if anyone angers you another time you had better
expend your wrath upon him before dinner, for if you nurse your wrath
till after dinner you spoil the whole thing."

Mr. John listened to her in silence and then resumed his promenade with
his hands behind his back snorting furiously. Suddenly he snatched up
his cap and rushed out.

"John, John, what are you going to do?" the old man called after him in
a supplicating voice.

"You'll very soon see, I'll warrant you," and he banged the door behind
him.

The old man turned reproachfully towards Madame Langai. "Why did you
irritate him when he was mad enough already?" he cried. "What will you