An ordinary woman would have thrown herself between the two men who were
ready to kill each other. Marie-Anne did not move a muscle.

Was it not the duty of Maurice to protect her when she was insulted?
Who, then, if not he, should defend her from the insolent gallantry of
this libertine? She would have blushed, she who was energy personified,
to love a weak and pusillanimous man.

But any intervention was unnecessary. Maurice comprehended that this
was one of those affronts which the person insulted must not seem to
suspect, under penalty of giving the offending party the advantage.

He felt that Marie-Anne must not be regarded as the cause of the
quarrel!

His instant recognition of the situation produced a powerful reaction
in his mind; and he recovered, as if by magic, his coolness and the free
exercise of his faculties.

"Yes," he resumed, defiantly, "this is hypocrisy enough. To dare to
prate of reparation after the insults that you and yours have inflicted,
is adding intentional humiliation to insult--and I will not permit it."

Martial had thrown aside his gun; he now rose and brushed the knee of
his pantaloons, to which a few particles of dust had adhered, with a
phlegm whose secret he had learned in England.

He was too discerning not to perceive that Maurice had disguised the
true cause of his outburst of passion; but what did it matter to him?
Had he avowed it, the marquis would not have been displeased.