“No, I do not!” I shouted as I banged my fist down upon the table⁠—banged it with such violence that a frightened waiter came running towards us. “Tell me, Mr. Astley, why, if you knew this history all along, and, consequently, always knew who this Mlle. Blanche is, you never warned either myself or the General, nor, most of all, Mlle. Polina” (who is accustomed to appear in the Casino⁠—in public everywhere with Mlle. Blanche). “How could you do it?”