He,
however, appeared to take no notice, though he watched his outrageous
pursuer out of the corner of his eye, as he quietly gave orders to a
porter concerning a little heap of luggage. When he had finished this,
he turned, as it were casually, to Mazarine. Then he giggled in the face
of the Master of Tralee. It was like the matador's waving of the scarlet
cloth in the face of the enraged bull. Having thus relieved his
feelings, Orlando turned and walked to the door of the reception-room,
but was stopped by the old man rushing at him. Swinging round, Orlando
almost filled the doorway.
"You devil's spawn," Mazarine almost shouted," get out of that doorway.
I want my wife. You needn't try to hide her. You thief! You lecherous
circus rider! Stand aside--leper!"
Orlando coolly stretched out his elbows till they touched the sides of
the door, and as the crowd pressed, he said to them mockingly:
"Get back, boys. Give him air. Can't you see he's gasping for breath."
Then he giggled again.
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