"Then I will remain."
"Oh, no; when he beats me, I beat him in return, and I always get the best of it, because I am not obliged to take any care; so if you would but go, sir----"
"But, my dear, if I go now, I shall meet M. Beausire on the stairs; probably the combat will recommence, and as I shall not feel inclined to stand on the staircase, I shall have to kill M. Beausire."
"Mon Dieu! it is true."
"Well, then, to avoid that I will remain here."
"No, sir, I entreat; go up to the next story, and as soon as he returns to this room I will lock the door and take the key, and you can walk away while we fight it out."
"You are a charming girl. Au revoir!"
"Till when?"
"To-night, if you please."
"To-night! are you mad?"
"Not at all; but there is a ball at the Opera to-night."
"But it is now midnight."
"That does not matter."
"I should want a domino."
"Beausire will fetch it when you have beaten him."
"You are right," said Oliva, laughing.
"And here are ten louis to buy it with."
"Adieu! and thanks." And she pushed him out, saying, "Quick! he is coming back."
"But if by chance he should beat you, how will you let me know?"
She reflected a moment. "You have a servant?"
"Yes."
"Send him here, and let him wait under the window till I let a note fall."
"I will. Adieu!" And he went up-stairs.
Oliva drowned the sound of his footsteps by calling loudly to Beausire, "Are you coming back, madman?" for he did not seem in much hurry to reencounter his formidable adversary. At last, however, he came up.
Oliva was standing outside the door; she pushed him in, locked it, and put the key in her pocket.
Before the stranger left the house, he heard the noise of the combat begin, and both voices loud and furious. "There is no doubt," said he to himself, "that this woman knows how to take care of herself." His carriage was waiting for him at the corner of the street, but before getting in he spoke to the footman, who thereupon stationed himself within view of Mademoiselle Oliva"s windows.
CHAPTER XX.
GOLD.
We must now return to the interior of the room. Beausire was much surprised to see Oliva lock the door, and still more so not to see his adversary. He began to feel triumphant, for if he was hiding from him he must, he thought, be afraid of him. He therefore began to search for him; but Oliva talked so loud and fast that he advanced towards her to try and stop her, but was received with a box on the ear, which he returned in kind. Oliva replied by throwing a china vase at his head, and his answer was a blow with a cane. She, furious, flew at him and seized him by the throat, and he, trying to free himself, tore her dress.
Then, with a cry, she pushed him from her with such force that he fell in the middle of the room.
He began to get tired of this, so he said, without commencing another attack, "You are a wicked creature; you ruin me."
"On the contrary, it is you who ruin me."
"Oh, I ruin her!--she who has nothing!"
"Say that I have nothing now, say that you have eaten, and drank, and played away all that I had."
"You reproach me with my poverty."
"Yes, for it comes from your vices."
"Do not talk of vices; it only remained for you to take a lover."
"And what do you call all those wretches who sit by you in the tennis-court, where you play?"
"I play to live."
"And nicely you succeed; we should die of hunger from your industry."
"And you, with yours, are obliged to cry if you get your dress torn, because you have nothing to buy another with."
"I do better than you, at all events;" and, putting her hand in her pocket, she drew out some gold and threw it across the room.
When Beausire saw this, he remained stupefied.
"Louis!" cried he at last.
She took out some more, and threw them in his face.
"Oh!" cried he, "Oliva has become rich!"
"This is what my industry brings in," said she, pushing him with her foot as he kneeled down to pick up the gold.
"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen," counted he, joyfully.
"Miserable wretch!" said Oliva.