Bordenave, deeming himself DE TROP, went away, but the count remained with bowed head.

He raised it with an effort and said in a breaking voice: "Supposing, my dear fellow, I were to ask this of you as a favor ?" "I cannot, I cannot," Fauchery kept repeating as he writhed to get free.
Muffat's voice became harder.
"I pray and beseech you for it! I want it!" And with that he fixed his eyes on him.

The young man read menaces in that darkling gaze and suddenly gave way with a splutter of confused phrases: "Do what you like--I don't care a pin about it.

Yes, yes, you're abusing your power, but you'll see, you'll see!" At this the embarrassment of both increased.

Fauchery was leaning up against a set of shelves and was tapping nervously on the ground with his foot.