to justify himself in something. But on my appearance everyone stopped speaking, and tried to put a better face upon matters. De Griers smoothed his hair, and twisted his angry face into a smile—into the mean, studiedly polite French smile which I so detested; while the downcast, perplexed General assumed an air of dignity—though only in a mechanical way. On the other hand, Mlle. Blanche did not trouble to conceal the wrath that was sparkling in her countenance, but bent her gaze upon me with an air of impatient expectancy. I may remark that hitherto she had treated me with absolute superciliousness, and, so far from answering my salutations, had always ignored them.
“Alexis Ivanovitch,” began the General in a tone of affectionate upbraiding, “may I say to you that I find it strange, exceedingly strange, that—In short, your conduct towards myself and my family—In a word, your—er—extremely—”
“ Eh! Ce n’est pas ça ,” interrupted De Griers in a tone of impatience and contempt (evidently he was the ruling spirit of the conclave). “ Mon cher monsieur, notre général se trompe. What he means to say is that he warns you—he begs of you most earnestly—not to ruin him. I