Julien felt an invincible repugnance towards him.
He noted the self-sufficiency of the chevalier de Beauvoisis, for that was the name by which he had referred to himself, shocked as he was when Julien called him simply "Monsieur."
He admired his gravity which, though tinged with a certain modest fatuity, he never abandoned for a single moment.
He was astonished at his singular manner of moving his tongue as he pronounced his words, but after all, this did not present the slightest excuse for picking a quarrel.
The young diplomatist very graciously offered to fight, but the ex-lieutenant of the 96th, who had been sitting down for an hour with his legs wide apart, his hands on his thigh, and his elbows stuck out, decided that his friend, monsieur de Sorel, was not the kind to go and pick a quarrel with a man because someone else had stolen that man's visiting cards.
Julien went out in a very bad temper.
The chevalier de Beauvoisis' carriage was waiting for him in the courtyard before the steps.
By chance Julien raised his eyes and recognised in the coachman his man of the day before.
Seeing him, catching hold of him by his big jacket, tumbling him down from his seat, and horse-whipping him thoroughly took scarcely a moment.
Two lackeys tried to defend their comrade. Julien received some blows from their fists. At the same moment, he cocked one of his little pistols and fired on them. They took to flight.
All this took about a minute.
The chevalier de Beauvoisis descended the staircase with the most pleasing gravity, repeating with his lordly pronunciation,
"What is this, what is this."
He was manifestly very curious, but his diplomatic importance would not allow him to evince any greater interest.
When he knew what it was all about, a certain haughtiness tried to assert itself in that expression of slightly playful nonchalance which should never leave a diplomatist's face.
The lieutenant of the 96th began to realise that M. de Beauvoisis was anxious to fight. He was also diplomatic enough to wish to reserve for his friend the advantage of taking the initiative.
"This time," he exclaimed, "there is ground for duel."
"I think there's enough," answered the diplomat. "Turn that rascal out," he said to his lackeys.
"Let someone else get up."
The door of the carriage was open. The chevalier insisted on doing the honours to Julien and his friend.
They sent for a friend of M. de Beauvoisis, who chose them a quiet place.
The conversation on their way went as a matter of fact very well indeed.
The only extraordinary feature was the diplomatist in a dressing-gown.
"These gentlemen, although very noble, are by no means as boring," thought Julien, "as the people who come and dine at M. de la Mole's, and I can see why," he added a moment afterwards.
"They allow themselves to be indecent."
They talked about the dancers that the public had distinguished with its favour at the ballet presented the night before.
The two gentlemen alluded to some spicy anecdotes of which Julien and his second, the lieutenant of the 96th, were absolutely ignorant.
Julien was not stupid enough to pretend to know them. He confessed his ignorance with a good grace.
This frankness pleased the chevalier's friend. He told him these stories with the greatest detail and extremely well.
One thing astonished Julien inordinately.
The carriage was pulled up for a moment by an altar which was being built in the middle of the street for the procession of Corpus Christi Day.
The two gentlemen indulged in the luxury of several jests. According to them, the cure was the son of an archbishop.
Such a joke would never have been heard in the house of M. de la Mole, who was trying to be made a duke.
The duel was over in a minute. Julien got a ball in his arm. They bandaged it with handkerchiefs which they wetted with brandy, and the chevalier de Beauvoisis requested Julien with great politeness to allow him to take him home in the same carriage that had brought him.
When Julien gave the name of M. de la Mole's hotel, the young diplomat and his friend exchanged looks.
Julien's fiacre was here, but they found these gentlemen's conversation more entertaining than that of the good lieutenant of the 96th.
"By Jove, so a duel is only that," thought Julien.
"What luck I found that coachman again.
How unhappy I should have been if I had had to put up with that insult as well."
The amusing conversation had scarcely been interrupted.
Julien realised that the affectation of diplomatists is good for something.
"So ennui," he said himself, "is not a necessary incident of conversation among well-born people.
These gentlemen make fun of the Corpus Christi procession and dare to tell extremely obscene anecdotes, and what is more, with picturesque details.
The only thing they really lack is the ability to discuss politics logically, and that lack is more than compensated by their graceful tone, and the perfect aptness of their expressions."
Julien experienced a lively inclination for them.
"How happy I should be to see them often."
They had scarcely taken leave of each other before the chevalier de Beauvoisis had enquiries made. They were not brilliant.
He was very curious to know his man. Could he decently pay a call on him?
The little information he had succeeded in obtaining from him was not of an encouraging character.
"Oh, this is awful," he said to his second.