He understood it all now, and his anger
had ceased. The count felt that he was looking at him mockingly and
pityingly, and he paused with a slight blush on his face.
"Egad, it's quite possible!" muttered the author complaisantly. "Perhaps
she would do very well, only the part's been assigned. We can't take it
away from Rose."
"Oh, if that's all the trouble," said Bordenave, "I'll undertake to
arrange matters."
But presently, seeing them both against him and guessing that Bordenave
had some secret interest at stake, the young man thought to avoid
aquiescence by redoubling the violence of his refusal. The consultation
was on the verge of being broken up.
"Oh, dear! No, no! Even if the part were unassigned I should never give
it her! There, is that plain? Do let me alone; I have no wish to ruin my
play!"
He lapsed into silent embarrassment. 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.
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